Vixens Through the Veil
by Mazz84
Summary: My 1st Sherlock Holmes fic! There's a full summary inside as I suck doing these things here. The genres might change as the story goes on. So please R and R and tell me what you think. Thank you.   DUFN.
1. Chapter 1

**First shot at anything out of my comfort zone. But felt like a change.**

**Do not own the characters that Sir Conan Doyle has created. (Thank God he did, though!) **

**Story is set around the Movie-verse. Have a rough idea where its headed(Plot wise).**

**Should warn you it will be a SH/JW fic eventually,(but then you clicked on it so you knew that.)**

**Um... any feed back and reviews are most welcomed.**

**Right...Here we go and wish me luck.**

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**Vixens Through the Veil. **

_**Summary.**_

_**When Holmes helps save a young girl he has no idea how valuable she is. Who are the Vixens? Why are they after her? And can Holmes stop them before he's forced to admit something that could change a relationship very dear to his heart?**_

Chapter one.

The skies of London were thick with fog, which was unusual for the time of year, the vapours rose to the chimneys curling around the pots before dispersing into the the light of the moon barely reaching the ground many shadows hugged the walls of the many workhouses, stately homes and so forth.

All but one.

A shadow slipped between the tight alleyways among the buildings. It flickered this way and that, ducking deeper into the darkness when-ever a carridge passed or a crowd of drunks. It journeyed in an ever-shrinking pattern until it found the right house. Stopping at a grand looking structure with, at least, four floors the shadow's attention was drawn to the small round window at the very top in the attic. Thankfully, on this night and from very reliable sources, the house was deserted. Why it was deserted now was the main reason to act before things got out of hand.

Taking out a well used lock-picking device the figure knelt and got to work on the old lock on the front trying several keys the figure huffed with growing annoyance. Slipping the last one into the hole and with a frustrated grunt the lock clicked and the door swung neatly open leaving the figure kneeling on the top step shaking their head.

"Unbelievable." They muttered, tucking their tools inside their jacket. From another pocket they withdrew a small pistol and kept it close. On their feet they entered and edged gingerly along the hallway towards a door on the right that was slightly ajar. Peering through the gap they saw the room empty and pushed the door just wide enough so they could get through.

The room was hardly furnished,a couple of old wooden stools and a table set for two people were seated at one corner. The other corner, by the window, sat a settee that had seen better days. "Clearly no woman involved, then. Could be two men judging by the meek supper laid out. But why three glasses?" Moving closer to the table they picked up the smaller of the three glasses and sniffed the remains of the water at the bottom. They made a face and quickly replaced it ."Drugged. An lighter, improvised version of the compound found at the other crime scenes,so they know their stuff." A smirk. "Sort of." Scanning the small room their eyes were suddenly draw to the bare floorboards by the settee. Something shiny was sticking out from under it. Kneeling and reaching forwards they withdrew a short ribbon, they examined it between rough fingers. " well a hair ribbon. Not the kind of thing a grown..." Eyes widened as realisation dawned. "Oh, you idiot! Not grown...Small, small and young." Tucking the scrap of cloth in their trouser pocket they hurried out of the room, down the hallway and up the stairs to the second landing.

"OI!" A man shouted from a room on said landing and dashed out clad only in his night shirt. "You not allowed in 'ere!" He lumbered forward, his right foot dragging slightly, holding a thick walking stick and waving it threateningly.

They didn't waste a second. Ducking a clobber to the head they whipped the stick from the mans' hands and stuck him just below his right knee. The man howled and crumbled to the floor clutching his bad leg. "Where?" They demanded aiming the pistol between the mans' eyes. When he didn't answer right away they hit his leg again. "Where!"

"N-no." He whimpered." H-He'll kill m-me if I do."

"And _**I'll**_ kill you if you don't. Now...Where!" The man gulped a few times and then pointed up the remaining stairs. " Oh, look at that. I was right. Much obliged,old boy. Now,this could hurt." Before the fallen man could protest they brought down the walking stick, the man slumped sideways his mouth open in a silent scream. Leaving the stick at his side the shadow traversed the rest of the steps and came to a halt outside an oak door. Scanning the frame they spotted something glittering in the faint moonlight. Reaching up on tip-toe they found a key hanging from a nail. Fumbling with the lock they managed to wretch the door open and staggered inside. Once their eyes had adjusted to the dim light they widened in slight horror. " My word!"

On the single bed at the far corner was his quarry. She had,indeed, been drugged and appeared to be sleeping peacefully. Carefully he edged forward, mindful of creaking floor boards, and leaned over her. He quickly checked that she was breathing, sighing in relief when placing two fingers on her neck and finding a weak gently pulled back the thin sheet covering her, finding her wearing a plain cotton camisole, that was clearly made for a woman as the straps hung loosely off her shoulders and the material bunched at her waist, and gazed at the rest of her for injuries.

What he found made him shudder.

Thick ropes secured her hands to the sides of the bed,forcing her arms out at nine and three o'clock, the rough twine cutting into her and leaving red marks on her light skin. A nasty purple bruise was starting to show on her cheek and she had a tiny cut on her forehead just above her right eye. An eye along with its twin that flickered open and fixed him with a terrified stare. He stared back and then slowly raised a finger to his lips, winked and leaned over her again reaching for ropes. Clearly the girl got the wrong idea, she murmured the same word over and over as he worked, thinking he was one of the men that had hurt her and struggled against him weakly when he helped her up onto a sitting position.

"Ssh, it OK. I won't hurt you."

She shook her head, "...No...I...I won't..." Her head lolled back, she went limp.

"Stay awake." He shook her, not rough but just enough so she wouldn't go back to sleep, fumbling to take off his jacket and handing it to her. "Come on. I'm here to take you home."

"Home?" She looked at him with glassy eyes while slipping her arms through the sleeves and buttoning it up. "You... help... me?" He nodded. "Na...Name?" She slurred.

A wolfish grin spread across his face, "Mister Sherlock Holmes. At your service, miss."

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**OK...I've got the ball rolling. How did I do? **

**Any mistakes...Sorry.**

**Next chapter is in the works.**

**Please R and R if you want.( Makes puppy-dog eyes.) **

**As I said at the beginning-ALL feedback welcome.**

**Mx.**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2. 

The thick fur of the tiger skin scratched the fine stubble on his chin. Sherlock Holmes mumbled in his sleep and curled up under the rag he called a dressing gown. The faint noises coming from outside his door made his brow furrow. As they grew louder and more urgent he growled and,after forcing his aching limbs to move, slowly got to his feet slipping the dressing gown over his shoulders and tying the belt loosely around his waist.

Holding the knob firmly he opened the door to his chambers, not caring he was dressed in an undershirt and trousers, to find a flustered looking Mrs Hudson and a startled Inspector Lestrade. "What do I owe the pleasure at this time of day?" He sent a dark glare to his land-lady. "You know my rules, Mrs Hudson: No visitors before noon. Good day, Inspector." He went to close the door but Lestrade put his foot forward making it impossible without hurting the policeman and, as much as Holmes wanted to, he really didn't have the energy this time of morning. "Inspector..."

Lestrade jumped right in. He'd known Holmes long enough to spot when the consulting detective was in one of his moods." If she could pop into the station, it will only take five minutes. I have a nurse standing by to check her over. And then I just need to ask-"

"Absolutely not! " He snapped. "I told you before I've had someone give the girl a complete physical and there's no damage, she's not been broken. Also, if I recall, this is **my **case not the Yard's. Lastly, if you go against my wishes and drag her to the station then I will tell the others about last Christmas. One final warning, Lestrade, so pay close attention : the girl is not to be disturbed, she's been through a terrifying ordeal. She needs to rest. I will speak to you at a more appropriate time. Good day, Inspector." Nudging his foot away Holmes slammed the door in both their faces. Pressing his ear to it he could make out Mrs Hudson's apology, Lestrade's huff of annoyance and smirked. Moving away he searched the room for a clean shirt, finding one with just a tiny burn on the sleeve, and made his way into the bathroom for a quick wash and gargle of his home made mouthwash. The taste was off putting but Mrs Hudson had nearly nagged him to death about his lack of oral hygiene and threatened to clean his mouth out with soap. In the end ,to shut her up and find some peace, he whipped up the tonic from distilled mint oil with his chemistry set . Once refreshed he hunted down his pipe, lit it and sank into his favourite arm chair to wait for his guest to awaken.

The clock on the mantle told him an hour had passed when the side door, leading to the bedroom, edged open and a small face adorned with flamed curls peeked out. Emerald green eyes darted around the room and, spying Holmes waiting patiently,widened when caught.

"You are perfectly safe." He said calmly. "Nobody here will hurt you." The face pinked and the door creaked as it opened further. The girl nervously shifted from one foot to the other. "Ah, of course. " He gestured to another side door. She dashed through the bathroom door. Holmes emptied the contents of his pipe into the fireplace and sat back to wait for her. Scrubbed clean and relieved his guest moved timidly forward taking a seat on the chair comfortable she tugged the hem of the cotton undershirt, that Holmes had lent her, down to cover her knees and folded her hands in her lap. It was quiet for long minutes and then her stomach gave a loud rumble. She blushed and looked at Holmes in alarm but his brown eyes were surprisingly soft. "You are hungry." She nodded shyly. "Very well. We shall eat." As though it might have been planned, a well timed knock on the door made her jump. Holmes waved a hand to calm her and got up to open it. "Perfect timing as always, Nanny."

The woman he called ' Nanny ' knew she was there having helped Holmes settle her when they arrived on the doorstep of 221B in the early hours two mornings ago. She gave him a curt smile and motioned to the tray in her hands. "Breakfast for two, Mister Holmes." Holmes stepped to the side to allow her entrance while eyeing the teapot suspiciously." No, it's not poisoned." Laying the tray on the nearest surface she turned her head slightly, away from his keen eyes and winked at the girl."Will that be all,sir?"

Holmes, back in his chair, looked up from checking the contents of the pot. "For now, Nanny." He stared hard at her face, trailed down the rest of her body, nodded and went back to the tray. "Hm. You look very tense, Mrs Hudson. Clearly those herbal teas of yours aren't doing the trick. Maybe you should send for a doctor. I used I know a chap..." He stopped , eyes going cloudy and shivered. Mrs Hudson let a ghost of a smile grace her lips. If Holmes noticed he didn't let on as he was busy pouring tea for himself and his guest. Sitting back he sipped carefully before sighing contently " You're slipping, Mrs Hudson."

"Am I? Shame." She turned and started headed out picking up odd pieces of soiled clothing, "Oh, by the way, a young boy left a package for you at the crack of dawn. Said you'd pay him the usual rates when you see him. Shall I bring it up to you?"

"Do you think you can manage all those stairs? Don't want you to hurt yourself, do we?" There was a teasing glint in his brown eyes.

She huffed, "Mister Holmes...For your information Dr Watson says I'm in perfect health,which is more then I can say about you. Good day, sir!" Feathers ruffled she marched out, slamming the door behind her. Holmes flinched at the sound and the uncalled-for mention of his former house mate.

"Nannies," he said after a while with a shrug, "think they know everything." Placing his cup back on the tray he picked up a slice of buttered toast and munched thoughtfully. The girl drank her tea in silence but he could see her gazing at the sausages under his lashes. He groaned inwardly, he needed to break the ice if he was going to advance in his case, something that would make her feel welcome and him not awkward. Glancing at door an idea popped into his head. Sitting forward he rested an elbow on his knee and cupped his chin. "Hm, I've got myself a tiny problem and can't see a way out. Maybe you could help me."

"What,like an experiment?" she asked,pushing back chestnut curls from her face. While she'd been debating to venture out of the bedroom or not she found one of Holmes' notebooks crammed end to end with countless ideas for experiments, drawings of the oddest inventions and theories. She sat up a little straighter her green eyes twinkling with interest.

"An experiment?" Holmes frowned slightly but then he looked closely at her and was instantly reminded that was how Watson used to look. Bright eyed and eager to learn. It wasn't what he had in mind but...this new turn might just open her up. "Yes...Yes, of course an experiment!" Reaching for the sausages he picked one up and examined it between his fingers. The girl had put her cup down next to his and was now doing the same thing. "Over the years that woman has tried to kill me with her cooking. What I need is a food taster. So here's what I propose: You take a bite out of yours and if it's not dangerous and you don't die, I'll take a bite out of mine."

"That sounds silly." She sniffed the cooked meat anyway. "Don't smell bad. Don't look bad either." Holmes raised a dark brow, she shrugged and took a big bite. She smiled, "Mm...yummy!" then looked up, " Hey!" Holmes had already eaten his and was now working on his second, she pouted. " You fibber. You're not scared of her cooking at all."

"Well...If you don't want yours..." He reached for another one but she snatched the last three up and held them away. "That's no way for a young lady to behave. You are a guest in my home and you will act accordingly."

"Sorry, Mister Holmes." Replacing the sausages back on to the plate she retreated back in her seat folding her hands in her lap once more. "Didn't mean to make you angry." Her lower lip trembled and she sniffed.

Holmes blinked and suddenly felt an uneasy, and unfamiliar, churn in the pit if his stomach. He had not meant to upset her just clarify the way things were done. He was not used to dealing with persons so young, apart from his gang of little misfits, and was at a lost how to make things right. Again, he thought back to when Watson was still with him and how he looked after losing the rent money gambling. A gentle pat on the knee or top of the head worked,Watson would look at him with grateful eyes and nod before going to bed. Agreeing mentally that it was worth a try he rose from his armchair, crossed the gap between them and patted her softly on the top of her head.

She sniffed again, "I'm sorry." She whispered looking up at him, emerald pools glistening sadly . "I'll go back to the other room now."

"Hold on one moment, child." He knelt beside her resting his arms on the arm of the chair. He gestured to the uneaten food on the tray. "There's still more tasting to be done. Why don't you get started on the eggs. Here," Quickly finding a pad of paper and a working fountain pen, he gave them to her, " write down if they're safe or not while I'll head downstairs for a minute." Standing with a groan he made his way to the door, glancing back he saw her raise a loaded spoon of scramble egg with one hand and sniff it carefully while scribbling down her findings with the other. The briefest of smirks crossed his lips as he hurried down the steps. "Mrs Hudson?" He shouted reaching the hallway. "Mrs Hudson! Blasted woman, never around when you need her." Spotting a badly wrapped bundle on the side table he had just picked it up when somebody knocked on the door. "Door, Mrs Hudson!" She didn't come and the knocking grew more insistent. Holmes grumbled,"Must I do everything myself ?" Taking hold of the handle he yanked the front door open ,nearly braking off its hinges. Seeing the person standing on his front step made his eyes widened."What are you doing here?"

Dr John Watson gave his oldest friend a tired smile, " I hate to ask,Holmes, but have you got room for one more?"

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**Watson has returned but why?**

**I think Holmes is a little off. Must fix that.**

**Next chapter we'll finally have the girl's name and a clue. (Ooh!)**

**Until next time**

**M.x**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3. 

"Oh, it's so wonderful having you back, Doctor. And, after a fashion, the dog too." Mrs Hudson stooped to pat the tubby bull dog sitting at Watson's side. The pup snorted and waddled out into the hall, no doubt to look for the absent dectective. As soon as it was just the two of them she smiled while offering a freshly baked fruit slice. " It's a shame that your visit will be a short one."

"Well..." He took a breath and started again, " Really ,Mrs Hudson, I'm just here to make sure Miss Veronica is settling in and to help anyway I can."

"Miss..? Oh, so that's her name? It suits her. I didn't think she'd pull through, not after what those brutes did to her. In the middle of the night he arrived with her in his arms. I was just about ready for bed, I was. Do you know that this is the first proper case he's had an interest in? He's been at such a loss since you left. Hardly eating, staying in his room until un-Godly hours and then only going out to get beaten to a pulp at some seedy pub. The marks on his body...It's enough to make your skin crawl." She shivered violently nearly spilling the tea. Watson leaned over to lightly grasp her wrist, she gave him a gentle smile. "I'm sorry , Doctor. I don't know what came over me..."

"It's understandable. You're worried. But you could have sent word,"

She shrugged, "I didn't want to bother you. You were settling into your new life. Speaking of which..." Setting the cup in front of him she poured one for herself and took the seat opposite. " I want to know all the gossip. How's Miss Mary keeping? What's your new practice like? Any hints of the patter of tiny feet?"

Watson grinned over the rim of his cup, " A gentleman never kisses and tells, Mrs Hudson."

A laugh let her lips. " Still the same as ever, Doctor."

_**Ah. So her name's Veronica? That's obvious considering the **_other _**evidence.**_

Outside in the hallway Holmes processed this new piece of information. Clearly when Watson had examined her he had gained her trust and Veronica had let slip her name. He lingered in the shadows, his face a mask of emotions. As soon as he heard the mention of a possible heir he growled deep in his throat. It was bad enough that Mary had taken Watson away from him and left him to fend for himself, but if an offspring was on the cards... he shook himself. What had come over him?

Gladstone shuffled up and plonked down at his feet with a groan. "Hello,dog." Gladstone huffed and let a small whine escape his glanced at the two suitcases, still left by the door, he deduced- some moments ago- that Watson's visit **was **going to be a short one. He gave a dismissive sniff and headed back to his chambers,leaving the pup at the bottom of the stairs, carrying the crumpled package under his arm. Once safely inside he disposited the bundle on the nearest clean surface, sunk in his chair, closed his eyes and groaned.

He was startled when he felt the briefest touch on his knee. Peering under his lashes he was met with the most bewitching green eyes he'd ever encountered and concerned face of his guest. Veronica smiled kindly at him, patted his knee once more and returned to her seat.

"I saved you some." She held up a brimming plate. "It's still warm and completely harmless." Beside her sat her notes filled with neat script.

Holmes took the dish from her,picked up a fork and started eating. " And?" He asked between mouthfulls, "What were your final conclusions?" At her puzzled look, " I mean, what were your findings? Could anything be improved?"

Another smile as she reached down and scanned her notes, " Well... the bacon was a little too crispy and burnt,that tells me it was left unattended for a little while. The eggs were seasoned with a herb I don't know so it's probably ...everything else checked out fine although a tiny pot of jam or honey would have gone nicely with the toast." She looked up to find him smirking. "What?"

"I'll make a dectective out of you yet. Come back and see me when you're older, I might have a job for you."

A blush, "Thank-you. I had a great teacher." A cute smile graced her lips. Holmes shifted in his chair. She glanced at the bundled on the side table. "Is that for me?" Holmes nodded. "What is it?" She asked.

"Why don't you open it and find out?" He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she opened the packet. Setting down his plate he got up and wandered over. She was shaking slightly and he wondered if he'd done something wrong. "If they're the wrong size or colour..." He started but he was cut off as she threw her arms around his middle and huddled in close.

"Th-thank- you!" She stammered, clutching the thin fabric of his shirt. "Not just for the change of clothes but for everything!" She started to sob.

Without breaking contact Holmes turned her and knelt so they were eye level, " My dear Veronica..." Her eyes widened hearing her name, how did he know that? "it's my job to see that you are cared for. Though I am not experienced and hardly can take care of myself at times, and considered a sociopath, I am a willing learner. I think," He pushed back a firery tendril from her temple," that together we'll get through this."

"Promise?"

"Yes." He said, stunned that it was the truth. "Why don't you get dressed, not in the blue we'll save that for something special, and since I don't want you to leave my sight just yet I think these and these would be quite suitable." He rooted through the jumble and pulled out various items along with some flimsy ones into her waiting arms. "Off you go."

Veronica gave him a teasing curt nod, "Yes, Holmes. What-ever you say, Holmes." She headed for the bedroom muttering under her breath.

" That's **Mister **Holmes to you." She continued to mumble. "I can hear you, you know." The door clicked shut, with a shake of the head Holmes looked through the rest of the items. He found them to be of good worth, maybe second hand. In the jumble he found a simple evening dress in blue with long sleeves and a high collar with matching hair ribbon, a day dress made from wool in a shade of grey,a nightdress, a change of underwear and a pair of ankle boots. He nodded in approval ' The Baker Street Irregulars ' were going to be well rewarded for this job, maybe a pie slice each along with his spare change.

"If you're thinking what I think you thinking,then you are completely bonkers."

Sherlock didn't need to look up to see the owner of the voice. He knew it all too well. "Are you complaining about my methods,_**again **_?" At the sound of un-even thumps he **did **look up and couldn't help the smirk that crossed his lips. "So nice of you to join me, Watson."

Watson recouperated the smirk, if only slightly, and limped over to lean on the edge of the table. "Don't get used to it, Holmes."

Holmes retired to his armchair and rooted for his pipe, "Tell me, dear Watson, how long is your darling wife in the country for? And why didn't her mother allow you to accompany them?"

"How did you-?"

Holmes sat up alittle straighter, "Quite simple, old chap. I took the liberty of examing your belongings while you were taking tea. Your clothes have been neatly packed by a woman- Mrs Watson, I think, going by the photograph of your wife lying on top inscribed: "All my love, Mary." There's a hasty written note with an address to a hospital in the country, one for clients with...if you forgive me...brain sickness. Said note is in a different hand, I assumed the mother-in law, and the client is a relative...maybe a sister. And because it was secrete into your bags by Mrs Watson, so you could keep in contact, mother-in law has forbidden you to join them because at the last minute she found out. That, and she has some issues with you. Maybe your skills as a Doctor..."

Watson blinked opened mouth for a second, "You went through my things?" Holmes nodded. As quick as his bad leg could carrying him, Watson found himself looming over Holmes. The detective looked up innocently, the spout of the pipe hanging out his mouth made him look childlike. "I thought we trusted each-other-"

"Clearly you are mistaken. You do not live here, you are my guest in my house. Therefore, I am going back to old priciples, therefore I do not trust you."

Watson was taken back, "You...Don't ...Trust...Me?" he repeated slowly,sinking into the chair opposite. "But...I came to you. In the middle of the night, I left my wife without leaving a note, to be at your side because you needed me. Are you telling me, right now, you don't trust me but need me?"

"I'll always need you,Watson." He whispered softly. "But you'll have to earn back my trust."

"Holmes..."

"But enough of sappy trivia. I want facts. So, Doctor, in your professional view, what do you make of Miss Veronica?"

Thrown by the sudden change of mood, but used to it by now, Watson took out his pocket book and glanced at his notes. "Well, she seems healthy enough for girl her age. I estimate that age at around 10 to 13 years, at least. Regarding that fact I don't think she's started going through 'the change', if you get my drift,"

Holmes sucked on his pipe, " Although when it comes to the fairer sex I am but a novice, I do understand what you mean by 'the change'. Do continue."

"Right. Well, she passed the physical with flying colours. There's no internal damage ... mentally I'm not so sure. She's bottling up her emotions and they could come out in a number of ways after an ordeal like that. You'll have to keep a close eye on her,Holmes."

Already being at the recieving end of one of Veronica's emotions out bursts Holmes nodded. "Hm...I intend to. Bravo,Watson, you're on top form as as always forgetting the most important of discoveries."

Watson looked at him in confusion before rereading his notes. Holmes enjoyed watching a faint pink blush spread over the Doctor's cheeks. "Ah, of course! Observent as always. You're on about the mark." Holmes shrugged off handedly. "As far as I can tell...it's just a birthmark."

"A birth mark you say, but I beg to differ."

"I thought you would." He said with a slight smile. "Go on. Enlighten me."

"I cannot for I have insufficient data. And as you know,dear boy,I cannot make a house from a few small bricks. I need a complete blueprint." At the sound of the door opening again he leaned forward, "We will not speak of our findings to Miss Veronica. Is that understood?" The darkness of his brown eyes and seriousness of his face sent the smallest of shivers down Watson's spine. He nodded mutely in agreement. Holmes patted his knee and stood sharply with a grin, " You look gorgeous."

She looked down at herself. She was in a shirt, a navy waistcoat and dark brown trousers. The trousers and shirt were at least a size too big and since she didn't own a pair of socks she was wearing a pair of Holmes', the tops she had to fold over twice so they fit and a pair of shabby workboots. She held the waist of her trousers to stop them falling down. "Uh... Mister Holmes, why am I dressed like a boy?"

"The reason is simplicity itself." He plucked a belt from the table and secured it tightly around her waist. She dropped her hands now that her trousers were safe from falling. " By now word will have spread that you have gone, certain peoples will be looking for you, and giving you my word I will protect you this is perfect, while they will be looking for a pretty girl you can walk around as a pretty boy."

"**That **is the most ludicrous plan I have ever heard." Watson shut his eyes rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"I've never heard you complaining about cross-dressing before. In fact..." Holmes went on, eyes glinting, " you didn't seem to mind when **I **did it."

Watson's cheeks reddened, "That was then, this is now. You knew how to act like a woman, no doubt from your **friend** Miss Adler," Holmes' lips thinned and his eyes narrowed slightly but Watson continued, " do you honestly think you could pass **her**-" He waved in their direction vaugely "- off as a boy?"

Holmes suddenly smirked, "Why don't you ask her yourself? Make yourself useful."

" Don't push it, Holmes."

"I'll push for as long as it takes. You be well advised to remember that." If anything the blush on Watson's cheeks deepened still. Holmes gestured to Veronica, " Still not convinced? Very well. A little role play, if you will. Picture the scene, my dear. Watson is a wanted crook and you and your mates have found his loot. Suddenly Watson grabs one of the boys and threatens to do him harm. What do you say to him?"

Veronica pursed her lips in thought and then in her best impression : "Oi, guv! You leave 'im alone or I'll set the peelers on you, yeah?" She was standing tall with her hands on her hips and a menacing look on her face. "How's that, Cap'n?" She asked Holmes.

He couldn't help but applaud, "Just like my boys. I think you're do you think, Watson?"

Watson just groaned.

Just after lunch the unlikely trio left Baker Street and were wandering down a road lined with all sorts of stalls from vegatables to meat pies, from clothes to pets. Veronica- in her disguise, now completed with a flat cap to hide her long hair- looked around in awe. She edged closer to Holmes when a burly man bumped into her and grabbed the back of his jacket. Holmes, with his riding crop under his arm, took hold of her upper arm and wedged her between him and Watson.

"What are we looking for,Holmes?" He asked, tugging down the brim of his hat and dusting off the lapels of his long coat.

"Not what, Watson, but **who**."came the stopped bang in the middle of road causing others to huff and grumble as they passed. Holmes took no notice, closed his eyes and there came an angry cry futher down the street, Holmes' eyes snapped opened and he hurried on ahead dragging Veronica behind him. Watson stood dumbstuck for a second before limping after them as fast as he bad leg would rounded a corner."Ah! Perfect!"

From a basement four boys ran out followed by a red-faced man in a navy shirt and white apron. He waved his fist at them, "If I catch you again you'll be sorry!" He disappeared into the basement slamming the hatch behind him with a bang.

One of the boys turned back and blew a raspberry. Then noticing Sherlock grinned,showing buck teeth, and amble up to him. He took his cap off and bowed. " 'Ello, Mister 'Olmes. Pleasure to see yous again."

"My, dear Wiggins. Getting into trouble as always."

Wiggins replaced his cap, frowned and folded his arms across his chest, " Not my fault, honest, Mister 'Olmes. Old man Bailey promised us half a loaf if we 'elped out. He's only broken 'is..." Wiggins trailed off spotting the boy at Holmes' side. "Whose your friend?"

Holmes smiled, "Ah, keen eyes, never missing a thing. Wiggins this is...Ronnie. Ronnie, Wiggins. My eyes and ears of the city."

Ronnie stepped forward,extending a hand, " 'Ello." He said softly. "Nice to meet you."

Wiggins shook his hand. He stepped back, stared hard for a minute and then, "You not a fella. You is a bird!" He gasped. Then at Holmes: "What's the deal, Squire?"

Holmes held him by his shoulders and looked him right in the eyes, " Listen , my boy, I have a job for you and the others."

"I'm all ears, Cap'n."

The detecive nodded, "Then listen good: Veronica, now Ronnie, is in trouble. I have important work to do and some men to track down. Now, some of these bad men will most likely turn up shortly to look for her. I need you lot to take her under your wings, show her the sights and how to behave like a real boy. If the men are as dumb as I think they are then they won't give you lot a second you do a good enough job there's a hot pie each in it and my spare change."

The boys' eyes lit up, "You can count on us! C'mon Ronnie, I'll introduce you to the lads and Bert." He rubbed one hand clean on his trouser leg and held it out.

She furrowed her brow, "Bert?"

He nodded, "Yeah. Pounces' kitten. He's real friendly,you'll love 'im."

"I love cats! Let's go!" She started to follow but stopped. She looked back at Holmes,"Uh... What time should I come home?"

"Be back by dinner."

A nod. "Okay. See you later, Mister 'Olmes. Doctor." With a bounce in her stride she caught up with Wiggins. The two started talking at once, acting like the best of pals. They rounded a corner and vanished from sight.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Holmes."

Holmes sniffed taking out his pocket watch and checking the time. "So do I, old boy. Now, time's pressing on and I have an important letter to post. Like to come along?"

Watson shook his head, "Not this time. I think I'll stay here..." His eyes were drawn to a dice game being played by three poorly dressed men. One of them looked up and nodded with a toothless grin ,patting a stool next to him invitingly. "Catch up with some old friends."

Holmes shrugged, "Suit yourself, mother hen." He said making his way to the post office.

**Wow. That was a long one.**

**Nice quote from the film at the end.**

**I think Holmes was OK in this chapter,but what do I know? Nothing! HA-HA-HAA!**

**Next one up soon. Promise.**

**And I promise that the first hints of Holmes/Watson will be in next chapter. Love long tables cloths, don't you?**

**Bye-bye!**

**M.x**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4. 

It seemed like an age had passed since Veronica's and Watson's arrivals at 221B when only it had been a couple of days, not that Holmes was complaining. As Mrs Hudson had commented one morn Holmes' mood had lighten some-what and it was reflected in his music. Instead of the dark and dreary melodies that echoed the rooms a heartfelt and, if one could say it, joyous sound drifted through-out the house.

Watson was awoken by one such tune right outside his door. Waiting for Holmes to return to his rooms he got out of bed gingerly, donned his dressing gown ,grabbed his cane and made his way downstairs for breakfast. When he got there he found Veronica already helping herself to a sticky bun. She was dressed in her grey wool dress, which meant she was staying in today, she looked up and waved.

"Morning, Doctor!" Hurrying to her feet she pulled out an empty chair for him. "Come, sit down. Take the weight off your leg."

"Thank-you." He sat and winced at the slight pain of said leg. Reaching for the teapot he asked, "Why is Holmes in such a good mood?"

She was quiet for a second considering his words, "He's in a ...? Oh! His music!"A blush quickly spread across her cheeks and she shrugged half-heartedly."I think it might have something to do about a letter he got this morning." She broke off a piece of bun and gave it to Gladstone. The pooch wolfed it down, scuffled closer and rested his head on her lap for more. " It had a fancy postmark on it but he hid it away before I could get a good look at it."

"I see."

"I hardly doubt that, Watson." Holmes entered the room looking neat, well presented, and down-right miserable. Watson's eyes roamed his body of their own accord, in a strictly professional manner, to see if there was any sign of illness. Reaching his face, clean from stubble, and finding no visible marks there he shook his head. Holmes took his seat next to Veronica and filled his own cup. " To answer your questions: I am dressed as such because I have a meeting with a client. They won't meet here for their own reasons. Second, I am up early because I have a favour to ask."

"Oh?"

"Mm. A chance for you to earn back my trust, dear Watson. I would like you to keep an eye on Veronica today." Veronica twisted in her seat and flashed Watson a smile. Watson, who didn't have anything vital to do, nodded. " Ah. Wonderful. It's settled then." A glance at the clock on the mantel. "Must be off. And don't you two get into trouble while I'm gone."

"We won't." They chorused.

An hour after Holmes had departed Watson went to change and left Veronica with Gladstone. She helped Mrs Hudson tidy away the breakfast things,and while the land-lady went on with her daily routine she retired back into the sitting room and looked around. In the corner huddle behind the bookcase sat a violin. Veronica peered at it closely, it appeared to be a little more battered then the one upstairs in Holmes' chambers. She peeked over her shoulder, there was nobody about just her and the dog .With trembling fingers she picked up the instrument, along with its bow, and rested the body against her neck.

Taking a deep breath she drew the bow along the strings. The sound was soft and gentle. Gathering up courage she drew the bow over the strings again and again producing an array of notes to form a beautiful melody. The song was unknown to her, it was like someone else had taking over her body and playing their very soul on the violin. She finished the piece with a dragging low note and dropped her arms to her sides completely stunned. She glanced up to look in the circle mirror hanging above the mantle and gasped in shock.

Her reflection had changed. Though she had the same emerald green eyes and red curly hair, her reflection in the mirror had aged. She looked older ,at least, twenty years old now. She reached out a hand to touch the smooth surface but heard a tiny noise from the hall. She stood still, straining her ears. She heard it again:a creek on the stairs! Quickly she put the violin back where she found it and looked at her reflection again. It was normal, she was a child again. What had just happened? At that moment Watson walked in dressed in a dark suit just as she jumped into her seat.

He stood in the doorway, resting slightly on his cane and,seeing her nervous state, frowned. "Something wrong?"

"N-no." She answered too quickly for his liking. "Well..."

Watson's eyes roamed the room and quickly spotted the violin sticking out from behind the bookcase. Holmes claimed to have lost it months ago, so he brought him a new one for his birthday which sat upstairs in the detective's chambers safe in its case. He noticed her trembling form and gently smiled putting the pieces together. "You play very well. I gather it has been **you**, and not Holmes, playing those happy tunes each morning?"

"Yes,sir. Please don't tell Mister Holmes! I copied what he played ,adding a little myself, and only practicing outside your door because I didn't want to be discovered." She bowed her head, her curls hiding her face. "I didn't mean to disturb you. Please don't be angry."

Watson shuffled closer, "I'm not angry."

"No? B-But..." Watson patted her shoulder. "It's like this, Doctor, I don't what comes over me. I just pick up the violin and play to my hearts' content. But the thing is... I don't know **how **to play. I've never taken a lesson,not one."

"Really? How odd."

"Odd, odd?" she asked,one brow quirking.

"Well...no. Just odd." A smile. "I must say you play better than Holmes at any rate!" She laughed out loud. "That's better. A pretty girl like you should laugh and smile." He took out his note book, "Well... I have to go out and see a Mr Humphrey at two, poor fellow has a rather nasty cough but I promised Holmes I would look look after you."

"Aw..."

He needed something to keep her busy, something to keep her still in one spot long enough for him to do his rounds. He scanned the table-top and spotted the very thing sitting next to her with a ruler sticking out of its top. Perfect! "Let's see...Ah! Got it! You've been helping Holmes keep his rooms in order, yes?" A nod. "Would you do the same for me?"

"I think so. What needs doing?"

"Nothing much, but I've been living out of my suitcases these past few days and I haven't had a chance to unpack my clothes, my scribbles-"

"Scribbles?" Her eyes lit up, "You brought your stories with you! Can I read them? Oh, please! I'll be ever so careful. I'll sit right here and read and won't move, you can go see that poorly man. Mister Holmes would never know. It'll be our little secret."

"Done. Let's choose one together. I don't think Mrs Hudson would approve if you read one of the more...detailed ones." Standing he took one of her hands in his and they headed towards his room to pick out a suitable book.

* * *

Holmes arrived back shortly after Watson returned from his house-call. His mood had darkened again going by the force-full slam of his door. Veronica and Watson shared glances before daring to venture up to see what was wrong.

"Holmes?" Watson tapped the door with his cane. "Holmes, you alright?"

"Go away!" Holmes snapped back.

"Mister Holmes?" Whispered Veronica softly into the wood panelling. "Mister Holmes, please open the door. Did your client upset you? Is it about the case? Maybe we can help you."

It was quiet for some time before the door to his chambers opened a tiny bit and Holmes peered out in shirtsleeves and wearing a dark expression. Seeing that they weren't going to move and their faces full of concern, for him, he bowed his head and with a defeated sigh opened the door fully to allow them entrance. Veronica timidly followed Watson in and sat on the wooden stool by the fireplace while Watson took his usual arm-chair. Once they seated Holmes slammed the door shut again making them both jump.

"Holmes! Really!" Spluttered Watson.

"What! Am I not allowed to be upset in my own home anymore?" Reaching into his pockets he pulled out a very crumpled piece of paper, thrust it into Watson's hands and paced around the room. " This came with the letter that introduced me to miss Veronica's case last week. And is the reason behind my foul mood. Read it!"

Watson glanced at the note in his hand. It was written in very neat script. He began to read silently when Holmes ordered him to read it out loud. Clearing his throat,Watson started again and this is what it said:

_**"Our first and second are in victory,our hold over you.**_

_**Our third is a kiss so simple and true.**_

_**Our fourth is in fire that burns so bright.**_

_**Our fifth lies at the end that makes your heart light.**_

_**Our last is your start and that's all you're getting.**_

_**Good luck, dear detective."**_

The room was still. Holmes had stopped pacing, standing in front of the fireplace stuffing his pipe and deep in thought.

Watson was the first to recover, he re-read it again and then, " **'Our first...' **What is this madness, Holmes?"

Holmes sank into his chair puffing on his pipe ruminatively, the smoke rings drifting away and fading without a trace. " It's a riddle,Watson. Surely you,of all people, would know a riddle when they see one."

"Holmes..."

"Don't start, Watson. I am in no mood for a trifle fight. The meeting with my client did not go well, as you have guessed. They believe your recent return has clouded my keen intellect and I have missed certain facts. This riddle is it." He lifted his gaze to meet Watson's and his eyes softened. "Make yourself useful, dear chap, and help me solve it."

"Well...I-" He looked at the jumble of words, completely at a lost where to begin.

"Done!" Cried Veronica, happily brandishing a scrap of paper with the answer. She presented it to Holmes who read it and then, after snatching it back from Watson, the riddle. His mouth dropped open in shock, his pipe falling from his lips and hitting the carpeted floor with a soft thump. " Simplicity itself. Wouldn't you say, Mister Holmes?"

"You, girl, are a marvel." He took in the time. "Right. Now we have the answer it's time to meet the man who hired me. He said if I solved the riddle to meet him for dinner at The Royale."

"And does that invitation extend to all of us?" Watson leaned forward on his cane, Veronica folded her hands in her lap waiting for his answer. "After all,we did help."

Holmes smirked, "Of course. I never go anywhere without my accomplices."

* * *

Later that evening they made their way to The Royale. Watson was dressed in a smart suit in navy with black frogging across the chest for that military look, Veronica walked beside him in her blue evening dress and matching ribbon. Her green eyes darted around the vast hall with excitement, her grip on Watson tightening slightly. Holmes brought up the rear dressed in a dinner jacket and untied cravat tucked under his shirt collar. His face was drawn and shadows were starting to appear under his eyes. He didn't look well at all.

A waiter showed them to their table and the client, a man, was waiting for them as promised. Watson was surprised to finally discover the identity of the man who had hired Holmes. He was older than Holmes by a good few years, his black hair was cut short and greying at the temples and when he stood to greet them his eyes twinkled in the light, much like Holmes'.

"Ah! Doctor Watson. A pleasure to see you again." Watson's hand was caught in a firm handshake. " Please, sit. Sit."

He helped Veronica to her seat and returned to his own. On the other side of the table, Holmes took the seat next to Watson and instinctively pulled his chair closer to the doctor. Watson didn't seem to notice, he was still trying to come to terms with the man's identity.

"You have questions, Doctor. And, hopefully, I have the answers."

"I have one." Went Sherlock, "How's the diet, Mycroft?"

Mycroft Holmes shrugged his massive shoulders. "Fine." He replied through thinned lips.

"Really? You look...**plumper** since I saw you at lunch-time. You should cut out the drink and red meat."

"Sherlock..." His brother growled, "Not in front of company." Sherlock looked around the table: Veronica was biting the insides of her cheeks, to stop herself from crying or giggling one couldn't be sure. Watson was looking from one Holmes to another in case a fight broke out between the siblings. He sat back and folded his arms with a huff. "Now, calm yourself, Sherlock. We're here to talk business. You've solved the riddle, no doubt."

"Well, actually," Said Veronica, " **I **solved it."

Mycroft turned to her in amazement, "Really! So,Sherlock, been passing on advice to your replacement,hm?" He laughed with a flutter of his hand, "And here I thought you were the only one in your profession."

"I am." He retorted, "That's why you hired me, _**Mycroft**_." He hissed his brother's name with venom. He wanted to continue but stopped when he felt pressure on his leg, his thigh. A hand , first shyly but then more firmly, squeezed his leg and he felt his temper calm. From somewhere deep in the pit of his stomach he fought the urge to silently beg it to move...Upwards. His chest tightened, where had that come from? And was the room getting hot all of a sudden? "Mycroft..." His voice trembled and had gone croaky, " We have, indeed, solved the riddle. And have questions."

"Such as?" The older Holmes quearied, sipping his brandy.

Sherlock leaned forward, under the table cloth- thank God it was long enough - he placed his roughened hand on the one on his leg and squeezed back. The hand patted in his knee twice and withdrew. He heard a faint cough from the seat occupied by Watson who was looking slightly flushed and smirked . He cupped his chin and stared hard at his brother, "Who are The Vixens?"

The reaction was not the one he expected. Mycroft spluttered in his glass going pink in the face. "What did you say?"

"The riddle,if done correctly, spells out the name 'Vixens'. Who are they, Mycroft?"

Mycroft was quiet before speaking, " A very dangerous group of women and your worst nightmare, Sherlock."

* * *

**OK any questions or tips. Anything at all.**

**Next chapter soon. Big thanks to those who feel like reading it.**

**M**.x


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5. 

"That wasn't so bad,was it?" Watson glanced over at Holmes who was suddenly interested in the houses going by. They were riding in a hansom heading back to Baker Street. The dinner with Sherlock's brother Mycroft had ended in a spectacular disaster : Sherlock hurled his pudding at his siblings' head and stormed out in a huff. Watson was left to apologised incessantly before taking Veronica's hand and hurrying after his friend. "Are you going to be in a mood all the way home? He was only teasing."

Holmes didn't reply, just stared out the window. Placed between them was a leather file that Mycroft had given them before hailing his own cab and returning to his hotel. Inside the folder was all the information Mycroft's team had on the elusive group known as The Vixens. Watson stared at Holmes for a few more seconds before sighing, leaning forward and adjusting his coat that covered the sleeping form of Veronica. He sat in his seat and shut his eyes.

"Finally!" Holmes whispered into the darkness making him jump, " I thought you were going to stare at me all night."

"You scared me! Don't do that!" A quick smirk flashed on Holmes' lips. "Idiot."

"Perhaps. But a smart one."

Watson turned his head, "How can you be a smart idiot? That statement makes no sense."

"Hm..."

"So, are you going to tell me what it was?"

"Hm?"

Watson rubbed the bridge of his nose. Holmes was being difficult and at that this late hour he didn't have the energy for it. "Holmes..."

The detective sighed deeply and turned in his seat to face him. "My brother wanted to know the status of our newly, reformed relationship."

"We don't have one. Unless you count our working relationship." Holmes gave him a look that clearly meant 'even you can't be that dumb' and his eyes widened a bit. "Oh, for God's sake! I'm married now. Why does everyone think we're... together?" He lowered his voice as Veronica stirred in her sleep, "When did he ask that?"

"Ah. That's the thing with Mycroft. It's what he **doesn't **ask or say that you have to pay attention to." Plucking the file, he looked it over and then un-clicked the flap. "Hm... contains numerous police reports, sightings and some dodgy profiles from eye witnesses. We'll examine it more closely as soon as we get home."

"You mean **you'll examine it**. I have to put Veronica to bed and then I'm going to sleep. Has Mrs Hudson made up her room yet?"

"No."

"Oh. So where will you sleep?"

Holmes shrugged, "I'll make do on the tiger skin. I normally end up there anyway."

"No." Watson said firmly. Holmes looked up and blinked. " You can share with me. That hard floor is doing your back no favours. You can share with me until Veronica's room is ready and then you take to your own bed. Understood?"

"Yes, Watson." Holmes said humbly, "Thank-you, Watson." The doctor's cheeks had gone slightly pink, and Holmes couldn't resist."Oh, and Watson ..." Holmes reached over and patted the doctor's knee lightly. Watson's blush deepened. " Thanks for trying to keep me under control. My brother can be awfully testing at times."

"Uh...You're welcome."

From her position under Watson's coat Veronica glanced between the two men and smiled to herself before drifting back to sleep.

* * *

Upon arriving at Baker Street and after paying the driver, Watson took Veronica up to Holmes' room and put her to bed. When he returned to his own room he found Holmes looking over the little items that lined his dresser. The detective picked up the photograph of Mary, looked at it and replaced it with,Watson noticed, a slight look of disgust.

At the sound of the door closing Holmes spun on the spot, "Well, now," He said softly that, to Watson, it almost sounded like a purr, " I'm all alone with a strong ex- army doctor. What are you going to do with me?" He walked slowly towards the doctor, a glint in his eyes that Watson hadn't seen before. Watson shuffled backward until his back connected with the door. "So modest. No need to be shy around me, Watson. You were the one who suggested sharing." He braced both hands against the door, trapping Watson and looked up at him with a smirk. "Well?"

"What are you-"

Holmes pulled back, "Hm. Maybe later. Right now I need sleep." He moved away and unbuttoned his jacket. Watson hadn't moved. "Well?" He asked sitting on the bed and removing his boots, "Aren't you coming?"

"What have you done with the file?"

"That is safely locked away in my drawer along with your check-book and spare bullets for your pistol. Now," He crawled under the sheets in his shirt-sleeves and trousers and patted the space next to him. "bed."

Watson's shoulders slumped as the toll of the night's events finally caught up with him. He pushed himself off the door and limped to the bed, sitting down with a grateful sigh as he took the weight off his bad leg. He heard the sheets rustle behind him. "Don't get any ideas, Holmes." He tugged off his own shoes and slipped out off his clothes until, he too, was down to shirt-sleeves and trousers. He got under the blankets,turned on his side away from Holmes, settled his head on the pillow and sighed again.

It was quiet. The only sound he could hear was his own breathing. He was about to turn over to check on Holmes when he felt a thin arm snake its way under his armpit to rest lightly on his stomach. It was then he became very aware of Holmes' feather-like breath by his ear and the warmth of another body pressed tightly against his.

"What are you doing?" He asked a second time that night.

"I'm recounting. And I like an audience. I was thinking about old cases and the last time we were like this." Watson could feel the smirk on his lips they were that close. " Do you remember the cells?"

Watson wanted to laugh." Which ones? We've been in and out of so many it's hard to keep track." Behind him Holmes groaned softly. "You all right?"

"Please don't use that word when I'm in this state. I might do something that I can't take back." A pause. "Again."

"I don't-" Behind him Holmes tightened his hold and at the same time pushed his lower half against Watson. "Oh, my God!" He gasped, "You're...you..."

"Precisely, dear Watson." He breathed in his ear and enjoyed Watson's shiver. " The case I'm on about to is that of the ' Vanishing Killer ' as you dubbed it. Remember... We were in the abandoned cells underneath Scotland Yard. They were sound-proof, ideal for our little experiments."

"If you think I'm going to help you cover up your sordid activities **again**, Holmes, you can forget it." Watson elbowed him in the ribs, "Now get off me and go to sleep."

"You know very well nothing happened. There was a lot of loud moaning, some muffled screaming and... a surprising, yet satisfying result. But there was no...**Penetration**." He growled the last word into Watson's ear. Watson elbowed him in the ribs again. He sighed in defeat, "Very well, if that's what you wish." Leaning over he playfully licked the side of Watson's neck causing another shiver to escape the doctor, "Good-night, Watson." he whispered going over to his side and settling.

"Good-night, Holmes." Watson whispered back, relaxing under the covers now that Holmes was a safe distance away.

As Watson slipped into a deep slumber Holmes found he could not. The detective lay on his side facing the windows with his eyes wide open. Confusion played on his features and his mind simply would not shut off. He had always known that he and Watson shared a deep connection. What was his brother trying to imply?

His eyes narrowed in the darkness. True, they were fond of each other, perhaps **too **fond of each other sometimes. And they had always acted like an old married couple, right from the off. There was a brotherly bond between them but nothing more. Nothing Sherlock could call, or dare to call, love.

He blinked in sudden realisation. Over the last few days since Watson had come back home he had been acting out of sorts when-ever the doctor was in the room. It was like the walls around the emotions, that he'd spend years trying to repress, were being ripped down, one by one, turning him into a ( he didn't want to use the word.) nymphomaniac. As he tried to pin-point the exact moment, his body demanded what it desperately craved and he fell asleep.

* * *

On the other side of London, not far from where Holmes had rescued Veronica, stood a grand boarding house surrounded by a majestic garden and enclosed by an iron fence.

A cab drew up outside the big gates and a man gingerly got out. Looking up at the house he gulped nervously, leaned on his walking stick and strolled through a side-gate, up the dirt path to the front door. He rang the bell and waited. A foot-man in black answered and gave him a quick once-over.

"Yes?" He asked, his voice was very nasally. "Are you expected?"

"I am. I have news for Madame."

"Name?"

"Bill...Mr William York."

"Hm...Please wait inside while I'll go fetch Madame." He led the way to a side room and opened the door. "Do not touch anything."

Bill edged away from the door as it closed and turned to face the room, "What in the world?" The walls were decorated with red patterned wall-paper and completely covered with photographs, paintings and drawings of the same person: A red haired woman in her early twenties. There was commotion out in the hall and the door opened.

"OH! A customer. Madame didn't say you was 'ere." A group of ladies, dressed in nothing but camisoles and chemises and ranging from mid teens to late twenties, surrounded him in a blink of an eye like vultures. " 'Ello,ducky. Is it me you're looking for?" One of them purred sweetly. He noticed that she, and the others,had the same features: pale skin, full lips, green eyes and red hair.

"M-maybe another time."

"What is going on here?" Came a strict voice from the doorway. The girls huddled closely together as a large woman walked into the room. She was dressed in a dark green dress with a black shawl over her shoulders. On her fingers were many rings with different coloured stones and she wore many necklaces. Her eyes were deep forest green and her hair was a light shade of chestnut. "Girls, return to your rooms at once!" The girls moaned in protest but at her steely gaze they nodded sadly and tramped out one by one. She slammed the door shut firmly behind them and turned to her guest. Suddenly she smiled, "Billy!" She cooed , holding out a hand for him to kiss.

"Madame." He bend to kiss the back of her hand. She sighed softly. "Forgive my late calling." She shrugged it off. "I will be to the point, Madame. I couldn't help but notice your collection," He gestured to the walls. " Forgive my rudeness. But what are all these paintings about? They look like that girl you wanted."

Madame sat herself down on the sofa and patted the space next to her. Billy was unsure so took the chair nearest the door, placed his stick across his lap and rubbed his sore right leg. "Come, now, Billy," She pouted full red lips. " I'm not upset that you lost her anymore. The fact she's still in London makes up for your blunder. I am curious about the man who saved her...Sherlock Holmes, isn't it?"

"But I thought it was you who sent the note," She giggled, "What's so funny?"

"Oh, of my girls wrote the note and sent it to the brother of the detective knowing that the man himself would get it. I'm sorry for your troubles, I really am."

Billy shrugged," It's water under the bridge. Now, what so special about this filly and why do you have a household full of identical women?"

"We are one and the same." She said simply. At Billy's confused look she explained, "These women don't just look like me, they **are **me. All of them are the same in every detail apart from one. None of them bears the mark as I do." She got up and wondered the room, gesturing to the many pictures, "This is me during the years. I do not look a day older in most of them, no? The reason is upstairs. Each one of my girls is special to me and once in a blue moon one is born with a mark like mine. That time is now. There's a bond between me and this girl,each day her powers grow, her life-blood is my life-blood. It flows through her veins, and it's that blood I need to survive."

"You're talking crazy! Like the undead. You're not a vampire, are you?" He joked.

"No. I am the head of this coven ." His jaw dropped ," That's right, Billy. I am a wiccan like my girls. We are The Vixens, a group of women more powerful and more deadly than that fool Blackwood. Now listen carefully: There's a ritual that must be done before the girl starts her journey to womanhood. If the blood is un-pure then she is unless to me and is better off dead." She reached down the bodice of her dress and pulled out a wad of notes. "This should cover your expenses. Bring her back to me and you can name your reward."

"Oh, I think you know already what I'd like." Snatching the notes from her hand he swooped in for a kiss.

* * *

**Sorry for any mistakes. Spell-checker on FF is not working for me. AGAIN!**

**Have I just made things more complicated for myself? Maybe.**

**Any hoo, I'm getting on with more S/J parts and they're not too graphic but just enough.**

**More soon.**

**M.x**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank-you to 'anonymous' for my 1st review and to bgm76 for the fave . Made me smile after a bad day at work.**

**THANK-YOU!**

**Pace should pick up during the next few chapters.**

**OK, on with the story!**

* * *

Chapter 6 .

"Now, are you sure you'll be able to handle things here?" Hrs Hudson clutched her small reticule as Watson walked alongside her carrying her suitcase down to the waiting hansom.

Watson grinned, "Don't worry, Mrs Hudson, after the war looking after Holmes should be a doddle." He opened the door for her, placed the case on the floor of the cab and held out a helping hand . " Is your friend meeting you at the station?"

"Oh, yes." She said climbing in and settling in her seat, " Mrs Furlong's son, Peter, will be there to greet me. He's just become a father for the first time."

"That's wonderful!"

"It is,isn't it? A beautiful baby girl. Mrs Furlong invited me to the baby shower this weekend, along with the other ladies from the old school crowd, and I couldn't say no. I have a gift somewhere..." She paled suddenly. "Oh, Dr Watson! I left it inside. Please, can you-"

"MRS HUDSON!" Holmes stormed down the front steps, his eyes dark and dangerous. He pushed Watson aside and stood hands on hips. "Mrs Hudson..."

"Mr Holmes?"

"Wait! Wait for me!" Veronica hurried to the cab clutching something lumpy under her arm. "Mrs Hudson. You forgot this." Unwrapping the bundle carefully she held up a golden coloured teddy-bear with a pink stripy bow around its neck. " Borrowed one of Mr Holmes's cravats. He didn't seem to mind." Holmes behind her snorted, she looked over her shoulder. "You didn't seem to mind when you helped me pick it out."

"Oh! It's lovely. Thank-you very much." Mrs Hudson folded the bear back into its wrapping and placed it safely on the seat next to her. " I'm sure the baby will love it."

"Well, safe trip, Mrs Hudson." Watson closed the door and stepped back slipping an arm around Veronica. "If anything happens..."

"I know. Good-bye, you three." The driver flicked the reins and the hansom drove off. Mrs Hudson leaned out the window and waved at the trio. She had to smile at the scene: Watson still had his arm around Veronica and both were waving with big grins on their faces. Holmes was standing behind them with his arms folded crossly over his chest looking like a child ready for a tantrum.

Watson and Veronica waited until the cab had gone around the corner before heading back inside. Holmes didn't follow them at first, he stayed by the steps and scanned the streets. Something was niggling at the back of his mind, something about the scene before him felt really wrong. Coming to no obvious conclusion at present, he shrugged, jogging up the front steps and slamming the door shut.

As the door to 221B closed, a man standing by the corner shop lowered the newspaper he was reading and smirked menacingly.

* * *

The days passed. Watson split his time between his patients, helping Veronica make up her own room within Baker Street and making sure Holmes didn't blow up the house. It was a taxing job and he found it soon drained him of his reserves very quickly.

On his way out one morning he stopped via the parlour to give Holmes his instructions for the day. Holmes would, no doubt, ignore them. "Right. I've have house calls to make today. Holmes, you'll have to watch Veronica ."

Holmes pouted, " B-But! Dear, Watson, surely you could..." He battered his eyelashes pleadingly at Watson who didn't respond. " I can't take her with me. I was planning to go to The Punchbowl. Hunt down some leads, interrogate potential suspects-"

"You mean bash their brains in ." Watson translated.

Veronica looked horrified, "That's mean!"

"That's how I work. If you don't like it," Veronica frowned at him. He threw up his hands with a defeated sigh. "Fine! We'll stay at home today. Happy?"

"Yes." The doorbell went, "I'll get it." As she skipped out the parlour Holmes rounded on Watson.

"How am I suspose to crack the case if I have to baby-sit all the time?"

"She can help. You saw the way she solved that riddle. She's got brains, real brains. Let her help you,hm?" He stepped closer putting his hands together in prayer. "Please?" Holmes's expression did not soften. "Would it help if I went on bended knee?" A dark brow raised slightly. Watson sighed and got down on the floor,with some difficulty, and put his palms together again." Please let her help today. Please, Holmes?"

"Fine." Watson smiled and started to get up when Holmes ran his fingers through his hair lightly, halting his movements. " You'll have to make it up to me later." His grip tightened a little, Watson gasped softly, he smirked. " I like you in this position, Watson. Maybe there's something you could for me while on your knees."

"Holmes... Now's not the time."

"Ahem?"

The two of them sprang apart,well,Watson fell onto his behind and Holmes jumped back and hit the edge of the table at Veronica's arrival. She glanced between the pair,at their flushed faces and rolled her eyes to the heavens.

"It was the post-boy. Letters for you, Dr Watson and a package for you , Mr Holmes."

Holmes eyed the package with slight apprehension. The box was plain and had a purple ribbon wrapped around it. There was a little card tucked under the fabric. He plucked it from the top as Veronica placed it on the table. Flicking it open, he scanned its contents and his eyes widened.

"That meddling wench!" He cursed.

"Holmes? What is it?" Holmes thrust the paper into Watson's hands. A smile crept across his lips. He read it out loud: " _**My dearest, Sherlock. Please accept my congratulations on your adoption of a very charming young lady.I hope my gift may help make her stay a little more bearable. Yours , I Adler**_. " He gave the card to Veronica, who squinted, trying to make out the swirly script. "How did she find out?" He asked.

"Word in the underworld spreads quickly, far quicker than I calculated. We must be more cautious from now on." He nodded at Veronica, " We will stay inside and examine the contents of this box with great care. You,Watson, will go about your day as planned." He slouched in a chair,steepling his fingers. "Watson?"

"Yes, Holmes? Sorry, Holmes."

"You all right,old boy?"

Watson took to his seat, "I'm fine, Holmes. It's just...This letter..."

"Go on." Holmes sat up a bit. "This it bad news?"

"What? Oh, no. Nothing like that. It's from Mary-don't look like that Holmes- She's coming home shortly. She wants me to meet her at the station. I have to go home. Get everything ready for her return." Getting to his feet, he donned his hat and coat, tucked his bag under his arm and grabbed his walking stick. He hurried to the door, stopping shy of opening it and turned back to face Holmes. "I'll be back for my things. I have to go. See you later." Holmes didn't reply,or give any hint he had heard him, he tipped his hat to Veronica and left.

It was still. The only sound was the ticking from the clock on the mantel. Holmes was still in his chair watching the door in the vain hope that Watson would come back. When he did not, he sighed deeply and rooted in his pockets for his pipe. Finding it and lighting it,he sank back down into the cushions. It was only then did he see Veronica staring at him.

"What are you doing? Go after him!"

Holmes shot her a confused look, "I don't know what you mean."

"Don't give me that. You want him to stay, I can tell. Go after him!"

"Who are you to lecture me on what I want?"

"Because it's the truth! Even-though I'm a child I can see how much you care for him, and vice versa. You're two sides of the same coin, you belong together."

"He belongs with his wife. That is the law and even I can't change that."

"Then the law is wrong!"

"Enough!" He roared. "You will go to your room and stay there for the rest of the day. Think about how poorly you have acted towards your host. When you are ready to apologise come to my chambers. Now, go!" Veronica blinked a couple of times before fleeing the room in tears. Hearing the door slam from above and her muffled weeps Holmes groaned rubbing his hands over his face." Nicely done,old boy." He needed to get out, to think. A walk around the block normally did the trick. He got up from his place, slipping a small piece of paper in his pocket, walked out into the hall, and after quickly glancing up the stairwell, strolled out the front door.

* * *

He arrived home half an hour later and found no trace of Veronica on the ground floor. He ventured the steps towards her room and pressed his ear to the wood. Nothing. Maybe she was thinking upon what he had said or she was asleep . When he was taking his stroll he realised he may have been slightly heavy with her. Hearing no sound from her chambers he left her to her own deivces and looked in on Watson's room.

He found it looking just as it was all those adventures ago: the bed neatly made, the curtains pulled back and the dresser lined with Watson's collection of curios. Holmes leaned on the door frame taking in every single detail. His eyes fell upon the photograph and they narrowed. Withdrawing the paper from his pocket he looked at the signature at the bottom of Mrs Watson's letter and his heart plummeted.

"Hook, line and sinker!" He hissed through gritted teeth. He turned and dashed down the stairs to his room. He had to get word to Watson and fast!

Upon re-entering his chambers, Holmes heard the faintest creak of the floorboards from behind the door. Every muscle in his tensed. The room was a mess,well messier then when he left it earlier. Somebody had been through his things, **his things! **

The creak came again, the sound of shifting feet, he span round and raised his hands to quickly block the blow to his chest and countered with elbow to the lower jaw. His attacker stumbled back in shock. Holmes raised his fists in a fighting stance.

"We done 'ere. Let's go!"

Holmes span round in the opposite direction, slightly taken back by the second person, and got a swift kick in the privates. He doubled over in pain, groaning under his breath. As he struggled to recover from that assault he heard the whistle of something fast moving through the air . The object, thin and hard, hit him solidly on the back of the head sending him crashing to the floor.

The last thing Holmes remembered clearly was deep, male laughter before the darkness claimed him completely.

* * *

**Sorry again for any mistakes. Computer is playing up.**

**OK ( Deep breaths.) Now the chapter, which is the reason for the rating, is coming up real soon. In my mad mind I think it's the one after next. Now please, I beg you, don't judge me too hard on its contents and forgive my swearing.**

**Until next time.**

**M.x**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7. 

Holmes awoke to find Watson kneeling at his side and staring down at him. His friends' features turned from mild horror to immense relief in a matter of seconds. "Wa-Watson?" He struggled into a sitting position and almost fell again as a wave of nausea washed over him. Watson held him steady. "Watson," He took a few gulps of air, "Wh-what happened? Where's Veronica?" Feeling a dull ache about his head he reached up gingerly and found the beginnings of a bump. He noticed that Watson hadn't replied. "Watson?"

Watson didn't look him the eye for a moment. "Holmes... I..."

"Where is she!" He cried.

"Gone. Th-they took her! They took her,Holmes. I'm so sorry. I was half way to the surgery when it dawned on me that I never told Mary I was planning to stay with you- she thought I was taking up rooms at the practice- and the letter must be a hoax. I hurried home as fast as I could. I found you like this and I thought-what are you doing? Where are you going?" Holmes was now on his feet and taking shaky steps towards the door. "Holmes?"

Grabbing the door frame for support, Holmes turned to face him. Though he was deathly pale, there was no mistaking the smirk on his lips or the all too familiar gleam in his brown eyes. "The game's a foot, Watson!" Without waiting for him, Holmes plucked his black fedora ,coat and riding crop from his dresser and bolted for the front door. Watson remained seated on the floor but then, with a similar smirk, grabbed his things and followed Holmes out.

He found the detective crouching just by the steps leading to 221B, his brow furrowed in concentration. "A small carriage arrived pulled by two horses. Three men-including the driver- and one woman, a child. Veronica!" He leaned closer so his nose was touching the ground. "She struggled, the men were strong. One of them has a gimpy leg...His right... My old adversary." He straightened, folding his hands behind his back, lightly tapping the tops of his legs with the crop. "They knew where she was. They waited until Mrs Hudson had gone,lured you away with a false letter from your beloved, to even the odds. They've been keeping tabs on us, but for how long?"

"Holmes! What are you doing? You might have a concussion. Now get back inside right now!" Holmes didn't move, he was looking ahead with his head cocked to one side. He sighed deeply. "I'm not going to win this am I?"

"No."

A nod, "Fine. Do you have a plan?"

Holmes smiled at him over his shoulder, "Of course. Right there ."

Several minutes later and Holmes and Watson were hurrying along the streets riding on two horses that they had acquired. Holmes took the lead, using his unmatched knowledge of London's back streets and alleys, with Watson closely behind. The houses around them started to thin and soon they were travelling along a country lane.

Reaching the top of a mild slope Holmes pulled the reins of his grey horse and it slowed to a gentle stop. Watson, on a black mare, came up beside him with a confused look. Holmes pointed downwards and Watson nodded. At the bottom of the slope a small box shape was moving at great haste pulled by two black blobs. Nudging the horses on with their knees, the two chased after the kidnappers once more.

Holmes kicked his heels in the horse's sides in a vain effort to make it go faster. He hadn't been in a situation like this since his childhood. His lips pulled back in a snarl, he took the crop and whacked the mammal's flank hard. The beast gave a snort and picked up speed. Behind him he could make out Watson urging his own horse on. The carriage was in their sight which was good **and **bad. Holmes realized the men had guns when the first shot whistled passed his ear.

"They're armed!" Screamed Watson.

"I noticed!" He snapped back. **Think, think, think!** For one with a great mind Holmes couldn't think of a thing, not one. He was shocked out of his stupor by another gunshot from behind. Watson had his pistol out and fired another shot at the gun-man from the carriage. Holmes chanced a glance back.

"I'll draw his fire. You get Veronica. And hurry, Holmes," He nodded at the horses, foam was frothing at their mouths and their breaths were becoming heavy pants. " the horses can't go on much longer."

Holmes nodded and urged his horse on with the crop. He reached the side of the carriage dodging the volleying of bullets between Watson and the henchman. His poor horse snorted tiredly but gave one last push and drew along side. From the darkness the second henchman stuck his arm out , he also had a gun, and took aim. Holmes brought the riding crop down and smacked him sharply on the wrist, the man yelped in pain and dropped the weapon, it bounced along the road and from sight. The man then tried to seize Holmes by hanging out of the window and making a grab for the reins. Holmes did one better. As the man leaned forward to grab him he flicked out his foot and caught him in the jaw, the man's head snapped back and he fell back into the darkness. The first man seemed to have run out of bullets and shouted something to the driver, possibly to hurry up, and then leaned out the same window. His eyes widened momentarily seeing Holmes. Holmes was ready, he dived at the man and landed inside the cab. He landed several quick blows to his face and he slumped unconscious. Holmes peered around in the semi-darkness and then spotted a big sack in the corner. He untied the string around the top and sighed in relief as its contents was revealed. Now all he had to do was escape.

Watson slowed his horse, the beast was getting too tired to keep up the chase. He knew it was safe to do so when the first man had run out of bullets, and when he didn't return after he refilled his gun he assumed Holmes had intervened. He reached where Holmes's own horse stood and was now grazing on some grass and watched as the carriage raced down the dirt path with both Holmes and Veronica in it. The side door suddenly banged opened and Holmes jumped out with what looked like a large rug in his arms. He rolled down the embankment awkwardly and disappeared into the bushes.

"Holmes!" Dismounting the horse Watson hurried to where his friend had fallen. With his cane he frantically parted the over-grown vegetation. "Holmes?" He called again. From the grass a muddy hand grasped the end of the cane. Watson knelt and fished for Holmes's searching fingers, he found flesh and pulled hard with a grunt. Holmes came into view and Watson stared at him in awe for two reasons. One: Despite the bad landing Holmes seemed to be fine apart from being a little dirty and bloodied .And two: The detective had managed to keep his beloved fedora perched perfectly on his head. While one of Holmes's hands held onto Watson in an iron grip, the other was wrapped around the middle of the bundle he'd jumped with. Watson took the bundle from him and laid it gently on the ground. He unwrapped it with care, "Good God." He muttered.

Veronica was unconscious and stripped to her underwear, just like the first time when Holmes had saved her, her hair was now a matted tangle and a faint purple mark shadowed her cheek from where the men had stuck.

"What have they done to her?"

Holmes, who had been on his back trying to catch his breath, rolled onto his knees and crawled to the doctor's side. He leaned heavily on Watson as he examined her closely. "Drugged. With the same solution as before no doubt. I'd wager...Laudanum. I do despise repetition."

"But why? Why go through all this trouble for one girl? Why is she so special?"

Holmes shrugged as he got up, " We'll figure it out when we get home,old boy. Right now the best place for Veronica is bed. And for me, before you suggest it, a bath," He rolled his shoulders and hissed softly in pain. "That was a bad landing." Mounting his horse Holmes took the sleeping child from Watson and settled her carefully in his lap, making sure she couldn't fall, and guided the horse into a gentle walk.

Watson got on his own horse and followed, quickly coming alongside Holmes. He gazed at his friend with slight concern when every other bump in the road made him grunt in discomfort. "I'll check you over after your bath. See what damage you've done this time."

Holmes cocked his head towards him, "Best offer I've had all day." He said teasingly, urging his horse onwards. Watson just rolled his eyes sky-ward and followed.

* * *

When they got back to Baker Street it was late evening. They were surprised to find a grim looking fellow and two policemen waiting for them with a warrant for Holmes's arrest on the count of horse theft. Holmes hurriedly explained that he had rented the horses from their owner and given the man a day's wages in advance. The policemen were not pleased that their time had been wasted and led the spluttering, red faced man and his horses away.

Holmes entered 221B and climbed to his chambers. He found Watson in his bedroom tucking the sleeping girl safely under the covers. He stood back for a moment and watched his friend carefully brush a stray lock of hair from her cheek and smile fondly down at her. It was painful to think that someday Watson would be doing the same with his own children. It made his stomach hurt and his heart ache.

Watson looked up at the sound of his shuffling feet. "She's sleeping it off, but how long she''ll be under...I don't know." He stood up with a sigh and rubbed his face. "What did the police want?"

Holmes waved a dismissive hand, " A misunderstanding. Nothing more. Now, " He strolled back into the main chamber and started undressing. At Watson's squeak of disapproval he looked over his shoulder, "as we don't want to disturb our guest there's an old tin bath in the corner somewhere. Be a love and filled it with hot water,Watson." Watson didn't move. "Well? Chop-chop!"

Watson glowered at him, "What's stopping you from doing it yourself?"

Holmes faked a swoon, "I'm ill. I might have a concussion." Watson snorted in disbelief but hunted down the bath anyway. "You know, Watson, " He said in a whisper, "if I have got a slight concussion I might pass out in the water. Do you know what the logical solution is?"

"I dread to think." The doctor muttered, knowing what the answer was. He dragged the tub in front of the fire to heat up and, after adding more coal to the dying flames, began journeying to and fro the bathroom with what-ever clean receptacles he could find.

"You need to be with me, supporting me, in case I have a turn." Holmes watched Watson fill the tub from his armchair. The steam from the rapidly heated water formed beads of sweat on his brow,made his cheeks pink and drench his shirt making it nearly see-through. When it was nearly full Watson stood in front of him with a stern expression on his face. "Is it ready?" He asked innocently.

"Yes, Holmes." He replied dryly, "The water's just right for you. Now, in you get."

He pouted, "No. Not unless you do too."

"What!"

Holmes folded his arms, his pout deepened. "You heard me quite clearly."

"Holmes..."

"No, Watson. You were the one who said you would check when I had a bath for-"

"I said **after **your bath, not during." He corrected while gathering a washcloth, towels and the new bar of soap he remembered to buy.

"What difference does it make?"

Watson was fuming, "It makes all the difference!"

"Oh, come now, dear boy." Holmes , bare foot with his shirt completely open revealing his toned torso, slouched down in his chair. " We'll be saving time and water this way." With a playful smirk he slightly parted his knees ,Watson's eyes widened a little, and raised a brow teasingly. "Try it just this knows? You might even enjoy it."

Watson backed away and Holmes worried he had pushed too far but Watson had only gone to close the bedroom door. Shutting it softly behind him, and shaking his head in disbelief he was going to go through with it, started unbuttoning his shirt. " This is madness! Don't make a sound." He warned Holmes coming towards him.

Holmes just smirked in triumph.

"And any funny stuff then you're on your own." Watson added spying the smirk. It fell from Holmes's lips in a flash. " I'm only doing this because I don't fancy another trip." He sat down to take off his boots and spotted something vital. "Holmes... The bath is too small for both of us."

"Well, then...I'll just have to sit in your lap, won't I ?" He was already undressed and wrapped a towel around his waist. Going into a corner of the room he rooted around in the clutter finding a screen that was very battered and stained . He stood it in front of the bath and the fire place, shielding them from the bedroom door. " There, much better. " Behind him heard light splashes of water and turned. Watson was rib deep in the water and eyeing him nervously. "If you don't mind?" He teasingly held the top of the towel.

Watson flushed bright pink and covered his eyes. He waited until he heard the cloth fall, water slosh over the side and felt a small tap on his shoulder before lowering his hands. He regretted it almost instantly. He looked up and met Holmes's dark orbs, they glinted in the fire-light. "Holmes!"

"It's cosy in here, isn't it?" He sat, no correction, he straddled Watson's thighs resting his hands on the doctor's shoulder tops as he let the heated water warm and sooth his aching body. "You first for a wash, I think." Leaning over the tubs' side he got hold of the flannel and soap,dunked both in the water and quickly rubbed them together. His hands were soon covered with thick suds. Reaching up to start washing Watson he froze, his hand hovering above the skin. Watson gently held his wrist.

" If you've changed your mind and don't want me..."

"I want you, Watson." His eyes widened, " I...What I mean is..."

Watson silenced him with a finger on the lips. " You **definitely **have a mild concussion if you're sprouting nonsense like that. Here, let me." He took the cloth from Holmes and started washing him in slow circles along the soft skin of his torso. The doctor's eyes narrowed at the faded scars that marked his chest and tutted. " You've been fighting again."

Holmes shook his head, " Old wounds, not relev-Ah!" Holmes suddenly jerked upright from his position. " There's a time and place, Watson." He muttered huskily with a smirk.

"I don't..." Watson looked down and flushed a brilliant cherry-red. " Uh... I have to go!" He pushed Holmes off his lap, Holmes ended up banging his head against the tubs' edge and getting a face-full of bubbles, hurriedly secured a towel around his waist and, as quick as he could without sliding over, rushed to his room.

Holmes was spitting out a mouthful of soapy water and wiping suds from his eyes when he heard the door slam shut. Realizing Watson wasn't going to come back he reached over for his pipe, nibbling the spout in a frenzied fashion as he replayed the scene in his head. With a sigh he folded his arms across his chest and slouched in the cooling water. Clearly Watson had enjoyed the experience, if his body's reaction was anything to go by, if only he could tempt him to go that extra step further. If Holmes could satisfy his unexplainable craving for the doctor then maybe he could get on with the case at hand.

He smirked again. There was nothing like a unsolvable conundrum to get a stagnant mind working.

* * *

**_That was a long one! I didn't mean for it get this long!_**

**_I am dreading posting the next chapter because it's the "deed" chapter and I'm not so good at writing such things._**

**_Maybe I should post-pone it. Make it number 9 instead. _**

**_Help...Please! _**


	8. Chapter 8

**Another long one I'm afraid.**

**If you really don't like slash stuff, turn away NOW!**

**Not going? Well, you've been warned. M.x**

* * *

CHAPTER 8 . 

It had been a couple of days since the failed attempt to kidnap Veronica. The child had been given the same solution ,as Holmes correctly deduced, and was now recovering in Watson's room. She had woken for a short time, long enough for a small drink of water, some broth and to quickly use the bathroom (with Watson's help, of course.) before drifting back to sleep. It was Watson's idea to move her upstairs to his room because he doubted he'd be getting much sleep any time soon and that Holmes needed the space to think (meaning more bullets in the walls and dreadful music played non-stop for hours, hardly the place for a sick child to recover). Now that Veronica had been attacked twice Holmes was more determined than ever to crack the case. He had sent a telegram to his brother the morning after the attack, alerting the elder Holmes that the same men were in the area. Mycroft wasted no time sending one back asking to meet and for him to bring with him his findings so they could solve it together. The only problem was Holmes didn't really have any.

"For goodness sake,Holmes! Have you seen the state of yourself?" Watson replaced the newspaper he'd been reading onto the table and looked over at his friend. "As your doctor," Holmes glanced up with both brows raised, "as your dearest friend," Watson corrected himself, "please stop for moment and rest. Look at you, you're like the living dead."

Holmes looked at Watson and then peered at the small mirror on his vanity, where he kept his array of disguises,and frowned. His reflection was a shadow of what it once skin had turned a sickly pale colour under the three day stubble decorating his chin, his eyes looked haunted and were rimmed with dark circles. He stared for a second, then grunted going back to his work.

"Holmes, please!" Begged Watson.

"Don't ask this of me!" He lashed out. "Don't you see,old boy? If I present Mycroft with no evidence then his logic, that your return has made me weak of mind, is proved. I will be humiliated and he's won. I can't let that happen." Running a hand trough his hair, making it stand up, he sighed and rummaged through mountain of paper-work on his desk. " Those moronic baboons have moved everything. It's all disorganised. I need to start again. I need more data! There's **nothing**!"

"This is all about sibling rivalry? But he's your brother, he's family and further more your client. Surely he'll accept your findings,no matter how small they are." Holmes glared at him, papers clutched tightly in each hand. Looking at the clock Watson groaned, rolling his shoulders."Well I'm going to bed. This is a ridiculous exercise and I'm not losing precious hours of sleep over it and neither should you."

Holmes blinked, the papers fell from his grasp and the haunting look left his eyes to be replaced with determination. "Dear, faithful Watson. You are quite right, of course. Why should I waste precious hours on that trifle of a sibling and his childish antics?" He sat up a little straighter, piercing Watson with a fixed gaze that made the doctor shift uncomfortably in his chair. "Besides," he whispered softly."I'd rather lose them with you."

"Holmes, don't star-Mmph!" Was all Watson could manage as Holmes had vaulted from his chair to lean over him and, grabbing the sides of his face, kiss him fiercely. The kiss was clumsy but hungry, Holmes planted a knee between the V of Watson's parted legs to steady himself. Watson, who was completely stunned by his friends' actions, managed to uncurl his fingers from the arm-rests to rest them lightly on Holmes's shoulders. He ripped his mouth away, ignoring Holmes's whimper. "What are you doing?"

Holmes looked down at him. For the briefest of moments he looked utterly bemused but it quickly vanished and his eyes shone with a serious gleam, "I thought that was obvious. True, I need more practise and I'm hoping you'll be a willing teacher." His eyes were dark and dangerous.

Watson shrank back into the chair to get as much distance between them as possible." No! I can't. I'm married damn it!"

A snort, "Do you think I give a damn about that little fact? No, I do not. And neither do you."

"What do you mean by that? And why are you acting like this? Get off me before I throw you off !"

"You don't believe me? You need facts? Very well, Watson, I'll give you your facts." He edged closer, close to Watson's ear. The tip of his nose brushed against the fine hair there making Watson shiver. "You've not been wearing your wedding ring. What does that tell you?" Without waiting for Watson's retort, Holmes pulled him up by his shirt front and attacked him again. Watson fought, he really did, to pry himself away from Holmes and his wandering hands. He sent up a silent prayer, but as soon as Holmes nipped at the skin by his collar he knew he'd lost. He took Holmes in his arms, one hand squarely on the small of his back,the other creeping up to the nape of his neck, his fingers entangling the thick hair. A growl left his lips when Holmes reached up to rest his hands on his shoulders to deepen the kiss. Despite his confession to need a tutor, Watson shuddered with pleasure as Holmes pressed his tongue to his fighting it for dominance. His hips rolled forward of their own accord meeting Holmes's. His eyes widened making contact with a tell-tell bump that he was sure mirrored his own. He pulled away slightly to gauge his friends reaction. Holmes was staring at him, cheeks flushed and lips puffy and damp. Slowly, ever so slowly, a smirk crossed his mouth. The detective touched a hand to his cheek, his thumb smoothing a path downwards, "My darling boy," was all he said before claiming Watson's mouth again.

They both knew they had crossed that invisible line, that point of no return,when Holmes abruptly moved away taking Watson's hand in both his roughened ones, weaving through the mess towards the bedroom. Once on the other side of the door Watson roughly pushed Holmes up against the wooden surface, reaching around his panting form to lock it. He brought his mouth firmly on his,pressing his lower half closer. Hips met hips, warmth met warmth extracting a low moan from Watson and a guttural growl from Holmes that startled him.

"Please..." He begged, "Please, Watson. **Please**!" Never had he wanted anything so badly. Never had he wanted to experience that little bit of heaven that one achieved through a natural release, not from an artificial one from false the years he thought it would be Ms Alder but now he realised it was Watson, it had only been Watson.

"Hush, I'm here." Watson bent to kiss his neck, his movements slowing. Holmes groaned at the sudden lack of enthusiasm and pushed him away. "What's wrong?" He asked and then spluttered, "Holmes!" when the detective placed his hands and his chest and shoved him forcefully towards the bed. He landed on the covers with a muttered oath. "What are you-"

Holmes crawled up his body to straddled his waist, he tugged at the doctor's clothes with urgent need. Watson grabbed his wrists again to slow him down, "Don't you dare!" He snapped,wrenching free."I can't take it any more! I've waited long enough. Don't you dare deny me, John!" Watson's eyes widened at the use of his first name on Holmes's lips, it sounded so foreign, so forbidden. He liked it, really liked it. Holmes wasted no time stripping him and dropping his clothes to the floor before starting on his own. Once devoid of clothes Watson could see how desperately Holmes wanted him. He sat up, pulled Holmes by the hips into his lap, just like in the bath tub days before, and held him close placing a hand at the small of his back so he couldn't move-not that he wanted to. Holmes wrapped his legs around Watson like a vine, his hips grinding against the doctor's of their on accord.

Holmes's actions became more hasty, more erratic causing unbearable friction. Watson could only take so much. Before he went mad, and seized Holmes to roughly take him, he stroked the tops of his thighs to stop him-big mistake. In his heightened state of arousal Holmes threw his head back, a needy mew escaping his lips at the touch.

Finally Watson could not take anymore, "Holmes? Holmes! **Sherlock**!" Holmes glared at him, hearing his own first name out loud and from the doctor's lips, and Watson froze: Holmes's eyes were wide and wild, pitch black with desire. His inexperience was out in the open for Watson to see, he was too far gone now and Watson, knowing it was wrong, found this rare and unguarded side of Holmes highly arousing. If only one thing could help rid his friend of his madden state then it had to be done. He closed his eyes and took a calming breath, _**Forgive me, Mary**_ , before cupping Holmes's cheek. Holmes growled at the simple touch making it that little bit harder (no pun intended) for Watson to keep himself in check. "Where's the oil, Holmes?"

"Dresser...Please, John...Hurry!"

Watson swiftly turned them over so Holmes was on his he hunted down the oil he could hear Holmes whimpering his name. He found the tiny bottle where Holmes had left it and hurried to unfasten the stopper. After long, agonizing seconds he unscrewed the top and quickly covered his fingers in the cool liquid. Making his way back to Holmes's side he gently touched the tops of his thighs again. Holmes jerked violently.

"Please!" He stared up at the doctor dazed, confused, and utterly delicious.

Any ideas to take his time and prepare Holmes for what was going to happen went out the window. Watson coated himself quickly, gritting his teeth against the slightest touch. Gripping Holmes's thighs he forced them apart and, knowing that it was going to hurt Holmes greatly, roughly drove himself forward.

He was right. The instant he felt Watson violate his body in such a manner Holmes cried out in agony. His head thrashed against the pillows, he clawed at the bedsheets."NO!" He cried, " **Auteur d'un viol. Salaud!**" He sobbed, "No. No,no,no!"

Watson knew he was speaking French but had no idea was he was saying. Desperate for some stability he leaned down to take hold of Holmes by the chin and made him look him in the eyes. "I know you're hurting and I can help but you have to trust me. Do you trust me, Sherlock?"

Holmes's eyes were glistening in the semi-darkness, he gave a feeble nod. " I-I trust ...Take it away. Take the pain away!"

"I will. I promise." He swooped in for a kiss, that Holmes half-heartedly returned, before taking hold of his thighs again and pulling them further apart so Holmes's knees were pressing against his armpits. He started moving again and felt Holmes instantly tense up. "Relax. It won't hurt any more." Rocking his hips slowly he let Holmes get use to his presence and adjusted his pace as Holmes adjusted to him. Getting use to the sensation of being possessed in such a manner took a while for Holmes. As the first few pangs of hurting subsided to be more bearable, more pleasant, he spread his legs even further apart for more of Watson. Watson moaned loudly as Holmes's warmth encased his throbbing flesh. It seemed that whatever insane presence that had taken over Holmes had passed into Watson. He grasped Holmes's legs, nails digging into his skin, his movements becoming more violent. Beneath him Holmes screwed his face up in pain, swearing in half a dozen languages. Without warning Watson suddenly swivelled his hips, Sherlock yelped in surprise. He stilled, his face full of concern. "You OK?" He managed to croak out.

"Again! There, again!" Holmes gasped. Watson obliged. Holmes threw his head back and groaned in pleasure as Watson found the right spot again and again. "Harder!" He hissed. His hands frantically searched for the doctor, they slid off his skin it was slick with sweat. Holmes reached out blindly again, this time succeeding in wrapping a hand around the back of Watson's neck, and pulled him closer. Their mouths were centimeters apart, "Do it." He snarled deeply." I want it. Don't deny me, John." He growled against his lips.

At Holmes's confession Watson's hips began moving like pistons trying desperately to reach his long delayed release. He nuzzled at the highly sensitive spot on Holmes's neck finding a pulse as quick as his own. Holmes panted like a bull in his ear nearing his own release. Suddenly the pressure that had been building inside both them exploded. Holmes lost it first, he completely shattered beneath Watson screaming his name. Watson wasn't far behind, at hearing Holmes lose all control of himself, he gave one last thrust and gladly welcomed his release pressing his face to Holmes's neck with a satisfied groan.

It was quiet, the only sound was the two mens' heavily breathing. Watson recovered first, he slowly withdrew from Holmes and crawled up the bed to lay at his side. Holmes took a little longer. With some difficulty he lower his legs, hissing in pain from them being forced into such an awkward position. He blinked in the dim light and then turned his head. Watson seemed to be drifting in and out of sleep, Holmes wiggled over to his side and curled against him, resting his head on Watson's chest as he wrapped an arm around him.

When Holmes did find his voice again, he spoke softly into the darkness, " Remember,Watson, I expect you to honour your end of our agreement." He nuzzled against the soft skin and smirked picking up Watson's quickened heartbeat. "On your knees or on your back. You decide." He yawned widely before drifting off to sleep.

Watson stared ahead, his mind reeling. This is what he agreed to? What the hell had he done?

* * *

**I am poised over a lake of hot, bubbling larva ready to swan-dive into its depths.**

**Flamers, do your worst.**

**But if that was OK and your cup of tea then great! Don't worry. Holmes will get his turn eventually. ( Have a nice fighting scene coming up.)**

**Next chapter** **soon. (I hope.)**

**M.x**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 .

The twins, Harriette and Henrietta, crouched by the key-hole trying to listen as Madame took out her frustration on the three men she'd hired to snatch the new girl from Mr Sherlock Holmes. Harriette shoved her younger sister (by ten minutes) to one side to get a good look.

Madame stood with her back to the door. Hands on hips and foot tapping under her vast three men coward in front of her, each wringing their caps and sweating something dreadful.

"What's happening?" Henrietta tapped her sister's shoulder. "Hattie?" She hissed.

"Would you wait! I'm trying to hear... Well, it appears Mr Holmes saved the girl, again, by jumping out of a moving cab."

"He sounds wonderful." Hettie whispered dreamily.

"That he does." Hattie agreed, getting to her feet and smoothing out the skirt of her red dress. "C'mon, we'll be late." Extending her hand to her sibling the two girls headed down to the basement to join the other girls that had already come of age.

Each night the girls of age would dress in the same outfit (a long sleeved red gown with white lace trim) and go down to the basement. They would sit on plush cushions in a circle, hold hands and chant, collecting their thoughts trying to connect to the mystical ether and reaching out to the lost child.

The girls were in the middle of their chanting when one shivered violently, despite the area being warmed by candle-light, her face screwed up in discomfort and she withdrew her hands. "Strange."

"What is it,child?" Asked the woman to her left.

She shivered again," Something has happened. A very powerful, emotional discharge has been released into the ether. Such raw, hungry emotions..."

"Is it from her?" The woman questioned.

The girl nodded, though with some uncertainty, " I-I think so. Yes. The energy came from the young witch, but through some-one else. Her powers are growing." She blinked as she cleared her muddled mind,"Strange... Her vessel appears to be a man... A very well known man," Suddenly she grinned, "The detective."

The collective gasped. The woman patted the other's hand, "You've done well, child. We will go and tell Madame in the morning." She looked around the group and nodded, "The rest of you get your rears in gear. We need that child before it's too late. Once morning is upon us, pair up and find her!"

* * *

"Good morn-Oh!" Veronica paused in the doorway to the sitting room. There was nobody in sight, the only one was Gladstone who was snoring softly on his cushion. She stood with hands on hips and lips in a pout. "At least I made an effort. Where are those lazy fellows? " She turned to go upstairs and give them a piece of her mind. She climbed the steps two at a time and reached Holmes's chambers. She knocked on the door twice and when there was no answer tried the handle. The door was unlocked, "Strange. Mr Holmes always locks the door to stop me from wandering. What's going on?" Quiet as a mouse she edged forward, picking her way through the mess, and tapped softly on the door to his bedroom. "Mr Holmes?" She whispered. Nothing. With a sigh she headed back downstairs to wait.

On the other side of the door, a sliver of sunlight forced its way through the crack in the thick drapes. It covered the foot of the bed, the tangle of cotton sheets, and found a pale leg entwined with a tanned one.

Holmes had heard Veronica calling for him but buried himself deeper into his pillow. He was sprawled on his front, one arm dangling over the beds' edge while the other had found its way behind him and was flung over something very warm and very solid. His eyes opened fully, slowly he managed to turn and prop himself on his elbow. He hissed softly in discomfort. The insides his legs were sore, he was sticky with various fluids and smelled of sweat. A quick glance at the sheets,spotting tiny red splotches on them and the nearly empty bottle of oil at the foot of the bed, made his eyes widened a little. He turned his attention back to the head of the bed and blinked.

Watson was sleeping next to him. The doctor was on his back snoring gently. The bedclothes, a single sheet that had not been thrown away in their frenzied activities the night before-and most of the morning, Holmes remembered with a smirk-rode low on his hips and showed one tanned leg. One arm had been thrown up and now rested behind his head, the other was holding onto Holmes's arm that was draped across said hips.

Holmes was at a loss. What should he do? One part of himself pondered that he should wake Watson and try to explain himself. Another told him to just the doctor sleep. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on the case, Watson made up his mind for him. He watched as Watson yawned, rub sleep from his eyes with the heel of his palm and blink against the harsh daylight. He frowned for a second, slightly confused of his bearings, but then turned to Holmes and smiled sheepishly.

"Morning." Sleep laced his voice and Holmes felt a warm tingle run through him. The doctor looked a far cry from his neat and well organised self. His hair was ruffled , his eyes were drowsy and such a deep blue. In short: Completely gorgeous and very suggestive. "Sherlock? You all right?"

He shook himself for having such lowly thoughts so early in the day. "I'm fine, dear boy." He managed to croak out.

Watson nodded, "Any discomfort? I could-"

"I'll live." He looked down at his arm still on Watson's waist and went to remove it but Watson tighten his hold. "Listen,Watson," Watson frowned slightly at the returned use of his last name, Holmes didn't notice. " about last night..."

" I can't believe we... What on Earth possessed me? What was I thinking?"

"That you've never had it so good?" Holmes offered. Watson shot him a dark look. He shrugged, "Just trying to be helpful."

"Well don't!" He snapped, "It's bad enough I cheated on my wife but it's worse because it was with you-"

Another shrug, "It was bound to happen, sooner or later."

" What? " Watson took in Holmes's blank expression, "Oh, God!" He groaned loudly," You planned this? You wanted me to..." A nod from Sherlock. "Well...The deed's done now and I can't take it back." He scratched the back of his neck. "Do you regret it?" Holmes was quiet, he blanched. "Don't say you regret it. Not after I've made a complete fool of myself. "

Holmes smirked, "OK."

"OK, what?"

He leaned forward, stopping shy of Watson's lips. His smirk grew, "I won't tell you." Watson frowned and then ,before Holmes could stop him, grabbed him by the waist and rolled them over so Holmes was underneath him. "Easy! I'm still a bit...**stiff**, you know." Watson raised a brow, Holmes squirmed in embarrassment, but then he smiled warmly and settled closer. Holmes welcomed his weight and his kisses, he arched upward when Watson found the sensitive spot behind his ear. Soon his predicament was becoming unbearable. "Watson... Please..."

"Spread your legs for me." He hissed in his ear. Holmes willingly complied without a hint of shame and he grinned, "Look at you. You're such a hussy so early in the morning." Holmes groaned and threw his head back amongst the pillows. " That's right. You just lie back and let the doctor work his magic."

"Don't flatter yourself, dear chap, just remember you have to let me...Oh, God! What are you- Oh!" Reaching up, Holmes held onto the headboard for dear life as he felt Watson's fingers circle his heated flesh, quickly finding a steady rhythm. "Ugh, **please**..." He sobbed.

"Sshh." Watson pressed his mouth to Holmes's neck smiling at his quickening pulse. He added fuel to the fire that was burning inside Holmes and watched his friend rise and fall countless times. Drawn to look, Watson raised his head and froze. Holmes's eyes were wide with desire and like deep, dark pools of melted chocolate. Knowing that look meant Holmes was close to cracking he increased his movements and was rewarded as suddenly Holmes stiffened,shuddered and he watched him go it was all over he withdrew his hand and wiped it clean on the bed-sheet. " There now. Don't you feel better?" He laid back down and patted the space next to him.

Holmes shot him a dirty look uncurling his hands from the headboard. "-you, Watson." He regulated his breathing, "Oh, and by the way, I'm not a just any hussy, doctor." He wiggled up to Watson,wrapped his arms around him and nuzzled into his neck. "I'm **your **hussy."

Watson opened his mouth to speak but a loud gurgle interrupted him. He glanced down at Holmes who looked back with a sheepish grin. "Breakfast?"

"Hm... Maybe later. Right now I'll just nibble on you." Holmes licked Watson's neck playfully before nipping the flesh with his teeth and then slowly made his way downwards. Reaching Watson's stomach, the doctor closed his eyes and sucked in a much needed breath.

Later when the two finally dragged themsleves out of bed it was nearly lunch-time. They stumbled into the parlour and met the furious green gaze of Veronica. She pouted at them from her seat and folded her arms tightly over her chest.

"Afternoon, gentlemen." She picked up her book to hide her annoyance, not seeing it was upside down.

"Uh...Afternoon,Veronica. " They chorused, exchanging sheepish looks.

"Have you been here all morning?" Asked Watson. He hobbled over to the table, out of the corner of his vision he saw Holmes smirk slightly, and gingerly sat down. Veronica shifted away from him."Oh, dear. I think she's upset with us, Holmes."

Holmes took up the other chair,careful to disguise his discomfort, and leaned forward steepling his fingers. "The child is hungry, Watson. You promised Mrs Hudson you'd be the responsible one and you have failed miserably."

" Well forgive me, Holmes. I have been preoccupied with my work and...other things." He muttered the last bit softly. Holmes's smirk grew behind his fingers. Watson racked his brain and an idea formed in his head. "I know!" He grinned clapping his hands, " Why don't we make lunch together?" Veronica's lips twitched upwards in a small smile. Holmes groaned loudly in protest. " Come now, Holmes. Even you must have some basic culinary skills."

"I do. But if you plan to make an elaborate luncheon, dear boy, you'll need to explain the more difficult preparations to me. If I follow my old violin tutor's advice : " Repetition is the key to success." I'm sure I'll get the **thrust **of it in no time at all."

Watson couldn't hide the blush that bloomed over his cheeks at Holmes's remark. Holmes waggled his eye brows at him and Veronica, watching the exchange, grinned over the top of her book.

* * *

**A little ' morning after ' chapter.**

**Next up-date might be a while. Fight scene is being a pain in the arse! (sorry!)**

**M.x**


	10. Chapter 10

**A short one.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 10 .

The meeting place Mycroft suggested was a quaint little café. He was waiting outside with a cup of tea and a slice of cake. Sherlock, Watson and Veronica arrived a little late, well maybe the right word was very late, Mycroft was checking his watch for the third time as they rounded the corner into view. He cocked his head to the side taking in every detail, and spying the affectionate glances that his brother was giving the doctor and hoping no-one was noticing ,convinced him that something had happened.

"You...are late." He stated as his younger sibling pulled out a chair for Veronica.

"Well, sorry." Sherlock replied with the right amount of sarcasm. "I didn't know I was being timed." He sat down next to Watson, who flinched slightly when their knees bumped together by accident, and slapped the case-file onto the table. " Here's the file. Let's see you do any better. Apart from the fact that most of the girls being snatched are between the ages of ten and twenty and the rock solid discriptions of a man with the gimpy right leg seen wondering around workhouses and orphanages, I've found nothing useful."

"Well, I'm very pleased that you came." Watson turned red and started spluttering, he tried to cover it by faking a coughing fit. Sherlock flushed a pale pink and shot his brother a death glare. Veronica, who was reading the menu, gave Mycroft a half-smile. "A poor choice of words, Sherlock? Well, I have no desire to know what goes on behind the closed doors of 221B. That's your business, this is mine." Mycroft picked up the file and pulled out the papers, laying them flat on the tables' top and looked expectantly at his sibling. "Shall we? In your line of work two heads are better than one, right? I'm pretty sure we'll find something if we work together. Doctor, would you care to take Veronica inside? I hear this shop has a wide selection of delicious pastries."

"Yeah, well you would know." Sherlock muttered under his breath. His brother narrowed his eyes at him and he smirked teasingly. "What?"

Mycroft waited until Watson and Veronica had entered the shop before leaning forward on his fore-arms. " What are you playing at, Sherlock?"

He feigned innocence, "I don't know what you mean."

"Don't play that card with me, little brother. I saw you."

Sherlock's air of smugness faultered. The pinkness returned to his cheeks and he slouched down in his seat. " Your powers of observation are as sharp as always, Mycroft. Obviously the diet isn't affecting your brain." Mycroft snorted into his tea. "Or maybe..."

"The doctor is happily married."

"I know."

"You can't expect him to run off with you on cases anymore."

"I know."

"Maybe it's time to let him go."

"I know!" Sherlock sighed in exasperation, rubbing his hands over his face. " I don't know what to do, Mycroft." he mumbled.

"Your buisness, not mine." Mycroft repeated, flicking through the police papers. He glanced up and was startled to see the helpless expression on Sherlock's face. "My, dear boy. What's wrong?"

"Oh, Mycroft," Sherlock sniffed, " I think I-"

"Are you sure they'll like them?" Veronica emerged from the shop carrying a side plate stacked high with sponge slices. Watson was close behind her with a tea tray. Veronica placed the plate on the table and grinned at the Holmes brothers. " You'll have a cherry slice won't you, Mr Mycroft?"

"He'll have to let his trousers out." Sherlock muttered. Again his brother shot him at dark look before reaching for a cake. Sherlock nodded his thanks, took a slice from Veronica and with one bite bit it clean in half. Watson nudged his arm and placed a steaming cup of tea in front him. He looked up and spotted Watson's eyes widen and narrowed his own when the doctor leaned forward and gently brush the corner of his mouth. Without thinking, his tongue flicked out to timidly lick his finger-tip. Watson flushed an alarming shade of red and withdrew his hand sharpishly. As the doctor took his seat Sherlock sat back in his chair with a predatory glint in his brown eyes. " Thank-you,Watson."

"Uh..."

"Gentlemen, **please**. We need to grasp the situation with both hands." Watson's cheek's darkened a deeper shade of red, Veronica smiled around her slice and Sherlock's smirk widened. The elder Holmes choose to ignore their childish behaviour. " I think I've found a weak link in the chain of command." Mycroft flipped over a sheet and pointed to a blurry photograph, "This man here, a Mr York, your **friend **with the gimpy leg, once was a proud fighter. He used to fight at country fêtes for a penny a round, and according to the records...He never lost."

"Until his accident with a horse and cart." Watson said, remembering the brief medical notes that were included in the file.

"Ah, but that didn't stop him." Grinned Mycroft. "I've heard from my sources that he stills fights, but only in seedy competitions. If only we had a lead on just such an occasion."

The foursome were quiet for a good few minutes until Veronica suddenly let out a loud gasp, "I know one! There's a big boxing contest at the Punch-Bowl this weekend. You could enter it, Mr Sherlock."

Sherlock arched a brow as he searched about his person for his pipe and lit it. He took a slow drag and released it. "And where did you hear this,then?" He asked her,slightly surprised.

The youngster blushed as red as her hair, " From your boys, sir." Sherlock silently went **ah **and nodded at her to continue. "Well, we were standing around outside when the owner tacked a sign on the door. Wiggin's smiled and said that you'd win it hands down. They've got a book or something."

Sherlock chewed on the pipe's spout, and then said after a while, "Well, then. I best not dissappoint them."

Mycroft sighed deeply, "It goes against my better judgement to send you to do something so ghastly,but it's the only lead we have." He reached over and gave his brother's hand a pat," I'll sent some of my best people, under-cover of course, to help should things get ugly."

"I appreciate your help, brother. Father would be so..." He sniffed, looking away. He gathered his thoughts. "Right. Can't waste time with idle chit-chat, I've got a contest to win."

"You **cannot **be serious, Holmes!" Watson finally spoke up. " This man has already beaten you to a pulp once. Who's going to stop him from doing it again?"

Sherlock looked at him, "I thought that was obvious,dear boy." There was the smallest hint of a genuine smile on his lips and an odd warmth in his eyes. Watson couldn't look away. "You, Watson."

* * *

**I am going to try and solve one of the biggest mysteries known to human-kind. Ready?**

**The meaning of life : " a period between birth and death or between birth and the present time."**

**HA! Got ya!**

**Thank-you OED for that.**

**Sorry for mistakes.**

**Until next time!**

**M.x**


	11. Chapter 11

**Same drill...If you like, review!**

* * *

Chapter 11.

Watson carefully folded the cream night-shirt and placed into the small suitcase along with a cloth pouch full of wash things. He looked up at approaching feet to find Holmes tying the end of a pillowcase with Veronica's work boots. He raised a questioning brow; Holmes just smirked and tucked the make-shift bag, containing the little girls' alias, into a corner.

"Well, now. Are we all set?" Mycroft poked his head around the door frame as Sherlock shoved in a variety of clothes hastily to cover his actions. Watson quickly slammed the case shut, narrowly missing Sherlock's fingers, and nodded. "Good. Excellent! Shall we?"

The three men descended the stairs and found Veronica waiting in the hallway. Two men stood either side of her in dark suits. Sherlock frowned at his brother who shrugged. Watson set the case by Veronica's feet and knelt so he was eye level with her. Her lower lip trembled slightly.

"You'll be quite safe with Mr Mycroft. It's only going to be a short stay at his hotel." Veronica sniffed wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Hey, now. No tears. I thought you were a big girl."

"I am." Came her soft reply. "It's not fair! The fighting was my idea. I want to stay and help."

"Absolutely not." Sherlock pushed Watson to one side. "Now listen, little madame," Veronica's eyes flashed a sharp green at such an address. Sherlock ignored it and continued, "We are sending you away for good reason: these thugs have already taken you twice. These two men," He jerked his head to either side indicating the black suits, "are trained to protect the innocent, such as yourself, and my brother…though I hate to admit it, is the best at what he does. Whatever it is." He rested his hands on her shoulders, "You're in the best possible hands. Mrs Thomson is a very kind lady, very tolerable." He briefly looked over his shoulder to where Mycroft and Watson were having a hushed but heated discussion. He turned back, a sparkle in his brown eyes and leaned close whispering, "But if you happen to sneak out, I have no objection to you wanting to cheer me on… Ronnie." He quickly jerked his chin to her case. Veronica narrowed her eyes but then blinked in understanding and nodded with a grin. Sherlock stood and ruffled her hair. "Good. Glad we could have this talk." He bent picking up her case and held out his hand to her. "We're ready, Mycroft."

"Yes." Mycroft donned his hat, hooked the end of his walking stick over his forearm and breezed out the door closely followed by the other three to the cab, which was headed by two white mares, waiting outside. One of the two men in black held open the door while the other got into the driver's seat and picked up the reins. "Yes, we must hurry along now. I've been away from my temporary office for far too long. I must see how the Spanish peace treaty is coming…" Sherlock and Watson exchanged odd glances at each other, he coughed into his fist. "Well…that doesn't really concern you. Clear it from your mind, Doctor." He frowned at his younger brother, "And _**you**_, Sherlock."

Sherlock stared blankly at him, "What? Were you talking just then? Could you repeat it?"

The elder Holmes groaned and rubbed the space between his eyes. "Dr Watson…Please?"

Watson put Veronica's case in the carriage, helped the girl in and took Sherlock by the shoulders. "I got it." Mycroft entered the cab; the other black suit closed the door behind him and got up front with the first. Sherlock muttered something in his ear and he called out, "If anything happens, from our end or yours send word via the Baker Street Irregulars. Veronica knows who they are and it's faster than a telegram."

Mycroft tipped his hat. "I will. And don't worry, John," Sherlock growled softly, his shoulders hunching under Watson's fingers. Mycroft smirked, "everything will be taken care of. Say good-bye, dear."

Veronica looked out of the window. She gave a sad smile to her minders. They smiled back but when Mycroft wasn't looking Sherlock winked at her. Mycroft thumped the roof of the cab with the tip of his cane and the cab drove off shakily. Holmes and Watson stood watching it get eaten by the other cabs on the road and then headed back into 221B.

Once behind closed doors Watson sat down on the steps and heaved a great sigh. Holmes stood with his back to the door, slyly bolting it shut. At the sound of the last lock turning Watson looked up. Holmes's eyes were dark and dangerous, he shook his head sadly.

"Why not?" The detective asked, strolling over and standing between the doctors' spread knees. He placed his hands on the tops of Watson's thighs, enjoying the surprised jump from the other. "We're alone," he murmured his lips ghosting over Watson's. "Have the house to ourselves. We can do it anywhere you like, however you like." Watson moaned softly hands coming up to rest on Sherlock's hips. Holmes bent his head and pressed light kisses along the doctors' jaw line and neck, "Where would you like me, John?" At the sound of his first name Watson reached up to grab the back of his head to hold him in place. "On all fours? Leaning against the table? On the rug in front of the fireplace?" Now Watson was shaking under him. Holmes lifted his head from his neck, Watson looked at him with stormy blue eyes, he smirked, it was so easy to get the good doctor aroused. He cocked his head slightly and leaned forward but Watson stopped him going any further with a tap on the lips.

"Not tonight."

"Why not?" Holmes rested his forehead against Watson's.

Watson sighed, "I have work to do. Patient files don't write themselves. And you need to rest up for the competition. I'm sorry."

"It's alright. I sometimes forget you do have another live now. It's just…"

"Yes?"

Holmes shrugged, "Never mind. It's not important." Pressing a quick peck on his lips Holmes stepped away and headed up the stairs to his room. "You're quite right of course, John. I need my rest. I'll see you in the morning."

Watson watched him go, rubbed his face with a sigh and went into the study to catch up on his work. He was half way through when the clock on the mantel chimed mid-night. Groaning and getting to his feet, he shuffled towards his room. Coming to the landing where Holmes was located he paused, eyes shifting this way and that, debating to enter or not. He shook his head, stepped back and continued up. He didn't want him tonight, even though Holmes had offered so openly. They both needed a good night's sleep: Holmes for the fighting and him for his duties as a doctor. He didn't want his touch, didn't need to hear his cries. He didn't. He stopped by the mirror and looked at his reflection: he was pink in the cheeks, dark eyed and struggling to keep his breathing normal. He couldn't escape what his body was telling him.

He DID want Sherlock Holmes. NOW!

"Damn it!" He hissed turning and going back to the previous landing. He paused putting his hand on the knob and leaned close on the wooden barrier for any sign of life within. Hearing none Watson took a deep breath before opening the door. Stepping inside the dimly lit room he stopped dead in his tracks.

Holmes looked up from his place. He was sprawled leisurely across his chair wearing nothing but his tatty dressing gown. A sly smirk flickered over his lips, "I knew you wouldn't be able to resist."

* * *

Morning came far too soon. After grudgingly leaving Holmes in bed Watson left for the surgery to pick up some supplies for the competition. Once he was gone Holmes shifted over to his side of the bed, inhaling John's scent before falling back to sleep in a matter of seconds. As he slept the hours rolled on and the paperboys came out onto the streets screaming out headlines of petty robberies and such, even a murder by the docks. Crimes all worthy of the sleeping mans' attentions.

But at the moment there was a crime taking place a little closer to home. There was a murder being committed at 221B Baker Street, right under Sherlock Holmes's nose and he didn't even know.

The first indication that he was not alone anymore was the faint smell that invaded his nostrils: Perfume. A scent that didn't belong to Mrs Hudson (she was more a lavender lady.) and Ms Veronica was away and too young to start wearing such strong scents. Holmes sniffed again, deeply this time, and stretched amongst the pillows, flexing his fingers and toes like a cat. Where had he smelt it before? An image slowly started to form in his mind's eye: A woman rose from the haze. Dark hair, pale skin, teasing eyes. Her hand reached out, she leaned forward and beckoned him with red tipped fingers, a playful smirk on her mouth...

_**SCREECH!...SCREECH!...SCREE-EECH!**_

His eyes snapped open. Someone was playing his violin...And playing it badly. Holmes bolted from the bed, stumbled over the crumpled blankets, stormed over to the door and yanked it open, nearly tearing it from its hinges and...Stopped. The smell of perfume nearly knocked him flat. There was only one person he knew who had with such fondness for Parisian perfume.

"Woman!" He roared, standing in the door-way with his hands bracing either side of the frame.

The woman turned to look at him over her shoulder. She grinned at him over the body of the instrument and drew the bow over the strings with one, last teeth gritting scream before lowering both to her sides and turning to face him fully. "Sherlock."

Holmes narrowed his eyes at her before marching over and snatching bow and violin from her grasp. He locked them safely away in their case and patted the top affectionately whispering. "The bad lady can't hurt you anymore." Stroking the casing once more, he sighed deeply and turned, folding his arms protectively over his chest. "What do you want, Ms Adler?"

Irene Adler, the only person ever to out-smart Holmes, briefly cast her eyes over his body. Reaching his brooding brown orbs, she gave the smallest of smiles. "Maybe you should get dress first? I won't look," Covering her own eyes; she peeked at him through her fingers. "I promise."

Holmes looked down at himself and blushed pink. Clearly the events from the night before had still left their mark on his muddled mind. Scanning the room, he found a crumpled pair of trousers by the door, turned away and slipped them on. Once buttoned up, Holmes walked over to his chair, slouched back against the cushions and raised his brows.

Adler lowered her hands, "Much better." Her dark eyes twinkled in the light as she took the seat opposite him. Sitting back with her legs crossed, Holmes stared at her ankles. She followed his gaze and grinned lifting up the hem of her burgundy dress to reveal more. "Do you like them? They're called fish-nets, for the obvious reason." When Holmes didn't respond she sighed, lowering her skirts, "What's wrong? Aren't you pleased to see me?"

Holmes scowled, "Why are you here?"

She grinned, "Ah. That's what I like about you, Sherlock. Always the direct approach." Holmes's scowl deepened, she shrugged. "I sent you a very expensive gift. When I didn't hear back from you, I became concerned. I was... in the area and decided to pop in." She pouted, "At least tell me your little girl liked it."

"She's _**not **_my little girl, but since you asked Ms Veronica was very pleased with it, she refused me the pleasure of burning the outfits you sent but allowed me to dip the card in acid. It was quite the show." He leaned forward slightly, his curiosity piqued, "But that's not why you're here. This isn't a professional visit."

"Don't miss a thing, do you? This is a_ Do you know what you're doing, Sherlock? _Visit. I had a nose around the house while you were sleeping. I noticed that the doctor's bed had not been slept in and then I saw the state of your bedroom and found this..." From her purse she withdrew a small vial and Holmes's eyes widened, "...by the foot of the bed. Now, I respect you too much-don't laugh its true-to hand you and the good doctor to the police." Tossing the bottle over Holmes caught it effortlessly and tucked it into his pockets. "Speaking of which..." She looked around the room. "Where is the dear doctor?"

"Out, getting supplies."

"For the competition?" Holmes raised a dark brow, she giggled. "I know all about it, Sherlock. I do have some money riding on the out-come." She rose to her feet, smoothing out her skirts and fixing her hat. Grabbing her purse she headed for the door. Before leaving she looked at him over her shoulder again, "I hope your late night _**experiments **_won't affect your fighting skills, or you owe me a huge sum. Good luck, Sherlock." With a wink, and a rustle of fabric, she was gone.

* * *

It was late afternoon when Holmes and Watson arrived at the Punch-Bowl. The first thing that struck Holmes as odd was the lack of hustle and bustle associated with such an event. Both men exchanged curious looks before Holmes inattentively pushed opened the door with the tip of his riding crop. They were greeted with an eerie silence. Holmes walked ahead while Watson followed a few paces behind, his hand slipping into his inside pocket for his pistol. Holmes entered the familiar make-shift ring and stopped at the centre; he put his hands on his hips and turned slowly on the spot. Watson stilled at his side, his eyes adjusting in the dim light, his hand tightened on the gun.

"I don't like this. Where is everyone?" He hissed in Holmes's ear causing the detective to give an involuntary shiver.

Holmes had his eyes shut, he sniffed. "Hm…Stale beer, body odour and the faintest whiff of old wood polish." He tilted his head slightly and sniffed again. "Fish and chips combined with axel grease." Watson stared at him, he smirked. "Perhaps the kind gentlemen behind us could tell us." As one both turned and came face to face with two other men. These two were heavily built, dirtied and scarred: just the sort you would find in a pub brawl. One had a slight smudge on his nose and the other was leaning on a worn walking stick.

"Holmes." Watson whispered. "It's Bill York!"

Holmes didn't seem to mind that they had been duped. He simply nodded, brandished the riding crop and flicked it between the other two men while grinning at Watson. "Tweedle-dee or Tweedle-dumb?"

Watson groaned.

* * *

**I'm back and it has been confirmed that I am NOT depressed but am a sociopath. (Do hope this doesn't lose me any fans.)**

**Bit of an odd ending, that one.**

**I promise fighting in the next chapter. I do!**

**Sorry for any mistakes, getting use to system again. I'll up-date soon.**

**M.x**


	12. Chapter 12

**(I knew the **Buffy the Vampire Slayer** books I've kept over the years would come in handy one day.) Apologies in advance for the utterly crap POV's in the dream sequence. It's one of my weak areas and I got so confused but… all I can say is: "'bout god damn time, Sherly!" **

Chapter 12.1

_**What I want to be when I grow up…**_

The sentence stared up at her making her frown. Veronica huffed and cupped her chin, tapping the end of the pencil against the paper. What _**did **_she want to be when she had grown up? Her mind instantly went to Holmes and Watson and to them figuring out puzzles and solving crimes. She could do that and had already done so with the riddle about the mysterious Vixens.

The door to the bathroom opened and a weary looking woman walked out with her arms overflowing with towels. Taking one look at the youngster she huffed in annoyance. "My dear child," she said with a frown, "I know you admire the younger Holmes. But is it necessary to dress like him? Please… Oh, one moment dear."

While she left to see to the door Veronica looked down at her attire. She was wearing her dressing gown and a pair of ratty socks, just how Sherlock would dress when figuring out a complicated puzzle, she pulled the lapels tighter over her chest for good reason; underneath she wore her 'Ronnie' disguise and was ready to sneak out when the nanny's back was turned.

"Now officers I assure you she's in the safest of hands. Wait a minute! Who do you think…No! Please no!"

Veronica sat rooted in her chair; her pencil fell from her fingers hearing the two piercing gun shots and the accompanying thud of a lifeless body hitting the ground. She calmed her rapid breaths and quickly scanned the room for plausible hiding places. Finding one she dropped her robe, exited the chair, crawled across the floor and slipped away. Once out of sight she got into a comfortable position making sure she had an eye trained on the door.

The inner connecting door to the main room opened slowly, and two persons dressed in tailored suits stepped forward. The one in the lighter of the suits was shaking slightly; their face was as pale as milk.

"I…I can't believe you did that. We weren't supposed to kill anyone!" They swallowed thickly reaching into their pocket, withdrawing a handkerchief and patting their sweating brow. "Madame will be furious you've left a trail for _**him**_ to follow."

Veronica's eyes widened. So the two were _**not**_ policemen. In fact they weren't men at all, they were women _**dressed**_ as men. A smirk crossed her lips as her deductions proved right when the shaking 'officer' pulled off their hat releasing long red hair. The other copied the first and Veronica had to throw a hand up to cover her gasp: they both had red hair and she was sure if she looked closely it would be the same shade as her own.

The second scowled at the first. "Will you shut it, Hettie? The child's here somewhere, the old bat said so. Shut your trap and find her."

Hettie pouted, "Just because you're ten minutes older doesn't give you the right to push me around, Hattie."

"I'll do more than push if you keep on. Now go look, we don't have long before the real coppers show up." Hattie shoved her sister to one side and disappeared through the door leading into the bedroom. Hettie shrugged and went the other way towards the windows, stopping at the table to snatch a left-over biscuit. "Oi, you pig. I saw you. No wonder you can't fit in your dress anymore." Hattie re-joined her sibling, blocking Veronica's view of the table, and tried one of the biscuits for herself. "Hey. These aren't bad." A sigh, "Well, looks like the kid's done a runner. Let's check the back stairs. If we hurry we might catch her. " The sisters left the room shutting the door behind them.

As soon as she thought the coast was clear Veronica left her hiding place. Going over to the connecting door she pressed an ear to it for any signs of life and sighed in relief when she heard none. A sudden feeling of panic swept over her and gripped her heart like a vice. Her nanny had just been murdered by two women who looked exactly like her. They must be involved with the plot to kidnap her…but why? She hadn't done anything wrong to them, she didn't even know them.

_Calm down, girl and think. What would Holmes do?_ She slowed her rapid breathing, shuffled over to the table and poured herself a glass of water. Gulping it down she thought long and hard. She needed help, needed to contact Holmes and Watson right away. But how? Her eyes caught the crumpled edge of her notepad and an idea came upon her. The Baker Street Irregulars! She ripped a page free and started scribbling down a note. Finishing the first line she found her vision becoming blurry, she shook her head to clear it but that made it worse. Looking up she was shocked to see the two ladies in front of her walking slowly forwards. In a blind panic Veronica made to get away only to stumbled and trip over a chair leg, falling to the floor.

Hattie and Hettie looked at each-other. The twins edged forward, picked Veronica up with tenderness and quickly exited the room before any one saw them. Carrying the drugged girl between them they snuck down the back stairs and clambered into the cab that was waiting for them.

* * *

Bill York and his accomplice stood blocking Holmes' and Watson's only escape route. The detective smirked at the younger of the two, flicked his riding-crop in their general direction and said: "Let's dance, shall we?" With a low growl Holmes' opponent stalked forward following Holmes as he backed away to the other-side of the ring.

Watson calmly took off his thick coat as he eyed up Mr York, who was doing the same, keeping a hand curled around the handle of his cane so he was ready when the man made his move. It came in a flash of steel; York had brought out his own hidden blade and Watson reacted just in the nick of time countering the attack, the air around them rang as steel met steel. York's eyes were cold and unforgiving as he advanced on Watson fighting with skill close enough to a professional fencer. Watson reached up to remove his hat and loosen his tie

At the other-side of the pen Holmes blocked a fist to the face with his riding crop, smacking the unsuspecting fellow across the cheek with it. _**Boy fights like an amateur, how utterly dull. **_The thug yelped in surprised and he released a bored sigh._** No challenge what-so-ever.**_ His opponent raised his fists again. Holmes lifted a single finger and stepped back to place the crop and his hat on the wall, once that was done he too got into a fighting stance and beckoned the youngster with a flick of a hand. A roar like no other left the boys' lips as he ran forward. Holmes quite easily dodged his punches, quickly deducing a pattern of his favourite moves:_** Left jab, right jab, left body shot, and right upper cut to the chin…**_ He successfully blocked each repeated cycle all the while looking for that one weakness, and then he found it.

Swiftly he kicked out and upward into the vast space between the others trousers. The response was instant; the lad fell to his knees howling in pain, doubling over and clutching at his groin. Holmes straightened with a triumphant smirk in place; _**Well **_that_** was definitely below the belt **_he thought looking down at the pathetic sight under him. _**And now for the other one. **_ Sherlock, now certain that he would no longer pose a threat, coolly stepped over the fallen man to assist his doctor.

Unfortunately the lad had other ideas. He had recovered quickly enough so that when Holmes was just passing he managed to wrap his arms around the detective's legs and bring him down. Holmes dazed, and slightly annoyed at falling for such an obvious trick, found himself flat on his back with the other sitting on his lap. The thug held onto Holmes' throat and had no intention of letting go any time soon. Leaning close he sneered at the detective, "Back_** off, **_super sleuth. This is far too big- even for you." Holmes, rapidly noticing a black fog clouding his vision, decided to play dead. He let the arm, which was trying to pry off the others from around his neck, fall limply to his side. His deception seemed to have work as the thug released him and let his unmoving body slump to the ground. Once he heard the footfalls grow quiet enough for his liking Holmes peered from under his lashes to check the coast was clear. What he saw made his blood boil: the thug was now rapidly heading towards Watson, who was so fully preoccupied with York that he didn't see the danger behind him. Holmes flipped himself up and charged forward barrelling into him and sending them tumbling into the rings' wall. The thug hit the wall head on, with a sickening crack and a soft groan, Holmes rolled off his limp body and stood, brushing the grit from his shoulders.

He felt something prick the side of his neck and swore slapping a palm there, "Damn insects!" he hissed before turning to assist the doctor.

It turned out Watson didn't need any help. He had just landed a vicious blow to York's face with his elbow; the ex-boxer cried out dropping his cane and covered his now bloodied nose with his sleeve. "My mose! You moke my mose!"

Watson poked him hard in the cane with the tip of his blade, "I'll do more than that, you brute." From the corner of his eye he saw Holmes just standing there with a glazed expression on his face. He coughed loudly. "Holmes?"

Holmes sucked in a shaky breath and blinked rapidly, "Sorry, old boy." He strolled over, his steps getting drunk like and propped himself up by leaning on Watson's side. "You know, you look quite devilish when you handle a blade. I like it." He let out an soft giggle and then fell to the floor in a heap.

"Holmes? Holmes!" Watson crouched over him checking his pulse. He glared up at York, "What have you done to him?" York was about to reply when there was an odd whooshing noise from the shadows; a second later Watson let out a yelp and touched his neck. When he pulled away his hand he found a tiny wooden dart. He blinked and looked at York again, this time the man appeared to be swimming in mid-air. "What? What…" Watson didn't even finish the sentence, dizziness over took him and he blacked out falling sideways right next to Holmes.

York stood over the slumbering forms and then looked into the darkness. "You took your time." He mumbled sheathing his blade. From the shadows a lady walked forward, calmly slipping a small silver blow-pipe into her purse. "So what do we do will 'em now, Milady?"

Madame tilted her head slightly as she watched the two men on the grubby floor. With a slipper covered toe she gently pushed Holmes' face to one side revealing a tiny puncher wound to his neck. A soft groan left his lips and his hand reached out blindly, curling around Watson's wrist, his eyelids fluttered madly and then Watson let out a whimper. Her green eyes glinted, "Interesting." She smiled at York. "I think we should let them sleep before the main attraction. Make sure that they're quite comfortable."

York bobbed his head. "Yes, Milady."

While he escorted her out of the building into her waiting cab, Holmes and Watson were pulled deeper and deeper into the dark abyss…

_A gasp left Watson's lips. As his eyes adjusted in poor light he could barely make out a shape before him. At a second glance it turned out to be Sherlock .The detective loomed above Watson with a smirk on his lips and his eyes glinting in the dim candle light. Watson made a move to get up but Holmes forced him back down and he finds that he's lying under a single cotton sheet with his head cushioned amongst soft pillows. _

_Cupping his face Sherlock moves in for a kiss. The kiss itself is chaste; Sherlock keeps sneaking glances to a particular spot. Once convinced that the shadows hold no threat Sherlock's kisses turn more harsh and demanding._

"_It's time, John. They'll be here soon and I've yet to taste you. Please don't deny me."_

"_I…Holmes, what's wrong? Where are we? And who's _**they**_?" Sherlock pulled back his face breaking into another smirk. "Holmes?"_

"_Sshh, love." The detective reached down under the thin sheets, grasping the hem of the night-shirt (Watson doesn't remember donning it) shimmying it up and over the doctor's arms. He does the same to his own and then reaches out blindly, knocking over various objects, and returning with a tiny tub. Unscrewing the lid he scoops up a load onto his fingers and held them under Watson's nose. "You're the medical man. Is this safe for my purpose?"_

_John's used to the familiar pain (He is ex-army, after all.)One hand fists in Sherlock's tangled locks, the other's flat over Holmes' protruding shoulder-blades. Holmes takes his unharmed leg and wraps it's securely around his waist, opening Watson a little more. Feeling Holmes inch his way forward, Watson drops his head back with a kitten-ish mewl which suddenly turns into a gasp of utter shock when Sherlock gives a sharp thrust, sheltering himself in one go._

"_Holmes…"_

"_Sshh, my dear Watson. It will get better, you have shown me this." Holmes' husky voice was right next to his ear. He kissed and nibbled the lobe before journeying down the doctor's neck and jaw-line. "Are you alright to continue?" He mumbled against the silky skin of his throat._

"_Yes. I can feel you're nervous. But don't hold back just because it's me." Sherlock's head snaps up, his eyes blazing coals in the weak light. Watson releases his hold on Sherlock's hair, traces the line of his cheek and his jaw, his nails lightly scratching the dusting of stubble there, to rest them gently on his lips. "I don't want a __**'sweet and innocent' **__Sherlock Scott Holmes-" Holmes' eyes widened at the full use of his name. Watson smiled warmly, "that's not who __**you**__ are. You're mean, ruthless…dangerously insane…"_

"_Shut up. Please shut up. I don't want to hurt you, I couldn't…don't make me…" His arms were trembling with holding his weight so he didn't crush the man under him. He shivered as Watson rubbed his lower lip with the pads of his fingers. "John?"_

_Fingers leaving Holmes' mouth to return to their previous location, Watson shifted a little causing Holmes to sink farther into him. He blinked as the pain was replaced with pleasing tingles making him moan and shift again. This time Holmes gasped and moaned. "Please, Sherlock…I-I…"_

_Holmes' voice was once again at his throat, "Say you want me."_

"_I do. You know I do." Sherlock grins against him, takes a firm hold on the leg around his waist and starts to rock his hips slowly. Watson increased his grip on Holmes' hair, "Sherlock…Please, Sherlock…" Holmes whimpers and the grasp on John's leg turns into a painful pinch making John mewl loudly in response. The only sounds in the room are the two mens' increasing laboured breathing, the slap of skin on skin and the creaking of the bed springs. The tempo of Sherlock's hips changes and it becomes a whole new song and dance, one that has all the right steps and hits the right notes. John throws his head back with a hoarse shout, back arching and muscles contracting around the detective. "Sherlock!"_

Watson opened his eyes sharpish, his breaths coming in short pants. He scanned the room from his place on the pillows, wincing as the gentle light of dawn through the gap in the curtains hits his eyes and closes them again feeling a dull ache in his head. He remembers the day before: he was with Holmes following a lead; they arrived at the Punch-Bowl and then…then… His eyes snap open for a second time and he looked down, they widened at the sight that greets him.

Holmes is nestled against his chest, head resting on his good shoulder and arm circling his waist. His roughened fingers on Watson's skin contract and release in time with his breathing, every so often he makes soft sniffling noises. John watches for a while slowly recalling it all; the false lead, the fight in the pub, being drugged and then the strange dream (that turned out not to be one he realises) of Holmes…how he…and then they…

"Oh, my God." He whispered mentally slapping himself. "Holmes? Holmes, wake up!" When Sherlock didn't stir he tapped his arm roughly. "Damn it, wake up!"

Holmes jerked upright into a sitting position, "I don't know what happened to the bunny!" He stared at Watson dumbly, his brain slowly awakening and then blinked mumbling, "You're not the Headmaster." Slowly he took in their surroundings, eyes stopping at the same spot in the false dream and only now did Watson see that it was where the door was situated. Dark orbs narrowing Holmes quickly turned back to Watson. His features were grave, "I won't say I'm sorry for my actions last night, old boy. Simply because they weren't mine but the after-effect of the drug that was used to render us unconscious. If I forced you into it then you _**do**_ have my deepest apologies as I would never…"

"Holmes, do stop prattling. We're both adults and we both enjoyed it. Now, to the job in hand… Didn't you say something last night about 'not having time and that they'll be here soon'? So, I ask again; who's **they**?"

Holmes smirked, "The Vixens. This is their head-quarters. I wager next month's rent that young Veronica is here as well. We don't have time to search the place and find her. Come, get dressed. Our delightful _**hostess**_ will be waiting for us to make an appearance." With that he slipped from the sheet, with no regard that he was as naked as the day he was born, and hunted down the crumpled remains of his clothes. "This was my best shirt, as well." He tutted.

At that moment there came a timid knock on the door followed by the jangling of keys. Holmes, after managing to find and pull on his night-shirt, bounded forward to open the door. He waited for Watson to dress hurriedly and then pulled it open. He blinked in surprised at who stood on the other side expecting it to be someone else. Someone more…Thuggish. The young woman standing in-front of him was wearing a light woollen, sky-blue dress and had chestnut brown hair that was pulled back into a loose bun. When she smiled, her green eyes sparkled in the faint light. Her pink coloured lips pulled back showing a set of perfect, neat teeth. In her hands she held a tray: on it was a basin with two sponges seated inside, a jug of warm water, a bar of soap and two small folded towels.

"With compliments from Madame. She wishes you to be clean before you meet. I'm sure last night was quite an ordeal. Please make sure you wash_** thoroughly**_. Madame will meet with you in the drawing room." With a shy smile she held out the tray for Holmes to take. When he done so she nodded, stepped out of the room and locked the door again behind her.

After placing the tray carefully onto the side table Holmes sniffed the soap cautiously. Upon finding nothing wrong with it he poured the water into the basin.

"It seems this 'Madame' is the mind behind it all. We'll have the answer to why she wants Veronica in a few short minutes. Come, we must get ready." He began piling his clothes on the chair in the corner of the room and doing the same for Watson on the dresser. He turned and frowned, "Watson?" He asked when he noticed the doctor hadn't moved. Watson was, indeed, still in bed with his arms folded across his chest. His stormy blue eyes never left Holmes' face. "Watson? Is everything alright?" He shuffled over the bed and knelt gingerly on the covers. "What's wrong?"

Watson pointed to the single item of clothing in Holmes' hands. "That's _**my **_waist-coat."

* * *

_**I know it's an odd place to leave but…**_

_**I hope that the fight scene was OK. This chapter was the last one to contain any smut, so you can put away your glasses now.**_

_**A.N, I took Holmes' name from **_The Young Sherlock Holmes series._** I don't know if it's right but I've read somewhere that his name was once given as William Sherlock Scott Holmes. ?**_

_**Nearly there. Could it be unlucky 13 for me? Have to wait and see.**_

_**M.x**_


End file.
